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HANDBOOK  OF  ETHICAL 

THEORY 


BY 


GEORGE  STUART  FULLERTON 

LATE   PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY   IN 
COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND   COMPANY 

1922 


Copyright,  1922, 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


PRINTED   IN   U.  8.  A. 


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PREFACE 

We  are  all  amply  provideci  with  moral  maxims,  which 
we  hold  with  more  or  less  confidence,  but  an  insight 
into  their  significance  is  not  attained  without  reflection 
and  some  serious  effort.  Yet,  surely,  in  a  field  in  which 
there  are  so  many  differences  of  opinion,  clearness  of 
insight  and  breadth  of  view  are  eminently  desirable. 

It  is  with  a  view  to  helping  students  of  ethics  in  our 
universities  and  outside  of  them  to  a  clearer  compre- 
hension of  the  significance  of  morals  and  the  end  of 
ethical  endeavor,  that  this  book  has  been  written. 

I  have,  in  the  Notes  appended  to  it,  taken  the  liberty 
of  making  a  few  suggestions  to  teachers,  some  of  whom 
have  fewer  years  of  teaching  behind  them  than  I  have. 
I  make  no  apology  for  writing  in  a  clear  and  untechni- 
cal  style,  nor  for  reducing  to  a  minimum  references  to 
literatures  in  other  tongues  than  our  own.  These  things 
are  in  accord  with  the  aim  of  the  volume. 

I  take  this  opportunity  of  thanking  Professor  Margaret 
F.  Washburn,  of  Vassar  College,  and  Professor  F.  J.  E. 
Woodbridge,  of  Columbia  University,  for  kind  assistance, 
which  I  have  found  helpful. 

G.  S.  F. 
New  York,  1921. 


CONTENTS 

PART   I 
THE  ACCEPTED  CONTENT  OF  MORALS 

PAGE 

Chapter  I.     Is  There  an  Accepted  Content? 3 

I.  The  Point  in  Dispute.  2.  What  Constitutes  Sub- 
stantial Agreement?     3.  Dogmatic  Assumption. 

Chapter  II.     The  Codes  of  Communities 8 

4.  The  Codes  of  Communities:  Justice.  5.  The  Codes 
of  Communities:  Veracity.  6.  The  Codes  of  Communi- 
ties: the  Common  Good. 

Chapter  III.     The  Codes  op  the  Moralists 15 

7.  The  Moralists.  8.  Epicurean  and  Stoic.  9.  Plato; 
Aristotle;    the  Church.     10.  Later  Lists  of  the  Virtues. 

II.  The  Stretching  of  Moral  Concepts.  12.  The  Re- 
flective Mind  and  the  Moral  Codes. 

PART   II 

ETHICS  AS  SCIENCE 

Chapter  IV.     The  Awakening  to  Reflection 24 

13.  The  Dogmatism  of  the  Natural  Man.  14.  The 
Awakening. 

Chapter  V.     Ethical  Method 33 

15.  Inductive  and  Deductive  Method.  16.  The  Authority 
of  the  "Given." 

Chapter  VI.     The  Materials  of  Ethics 38 

17.  How  the  Moralist  should  Proceed.  18.  The  Phi- 
losopher as  Moralist. 

Chapter  VII.    The  Aim  op  Ethics  as  Science 43 

19.  The  Appeal  to  Reason.  20.  The  Appeal  to  Reason 
Justified. 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PART   III 
MAN  AND  HIS  ENVIRONMENT 

PAGE 

Chapter  VIII.     Man's  Nature 51 

21.  The   Background   of   Actions.     22.  Man's   Nature. 

23.  How  Discover  Man's  Nature? 

Chapter  IX.     Man's  Materi-'U,  Environment 57 

24.  The  Struggle  with  Nature.  25.  The  Conquests  of 
the  Mind.  26.  The  Conquest  of  Nature  and  the  Well- 
being  of  Man. 

Chapter  X.     Man's  Social  Environment 66 

27.  Man  is  Assigned  his  Place.  28.  Varieties  of  the  Social 
Order.  29.  Social  Organization.  30.  Social  Order  and 
Human  Will. 

PART   IV 

THE  REALM  OF  ENDS 

Chapter  XI.    Impulse,  Desire,  and  Will 77 

31.  Impulse.  32.  Desire.  33.  Desire  of  the  Unattain- 
able.    34.  Will.      35.  Desire    and    Will   not    Identical. 

36.  The  Will  and  Deferred  Action. 

Chapter  XII.     The  Permanent  Will 90 

37.  Consciously  Chosen  Ends.  38.  Ends  not  Consciously 
Chosen.     39.  The  Choice  of  Ideals. 

Chapter  XIII.     The  Object  in  Desire  and  Will 96        ^ 

40.  The  Object  as  End  to  be  Realized.  41.  Human 
Nature  and  the  Objects  Chosen.  42.  The  Instincts  and 
Impulses  of  Man.  43.  The  Study  of  Man's  Instincts  Im- 
portant. 44.  The  Bewildering  Multiplicity  of  the  Objects 
of  Desire,  and  the  Effort  to  Find  an  Underlying  Unity. 

Chapter  XIV.     Intention  and  Motive 105 

45.     Complex     Ends.       46.     Intention.       47.     Motive. 

48.  Ethical  Significance  of  Intention  and  Motive. 

Chapter  XV.     Feeling  as  Motive 112 

49.  Feeling.  50.  Feehng  and  Action.  51.  Feeling  as 
Object.     52.  Freedom  as  Object. 

Chapter  XVI.     Rationality  and  Will 118 

53.  The  Irrational  Will.  .54.  One  View  of  Reason. 
55.  Dominant  and  Subordinate  Desires.  56.  The  Har- 
monization of  Desires.    57.  Varieties  of  Dominant  Ends. 


CONTENTS  ix 

PAGE 

58.  An  Objection  Answered.  59.  This  View  of  Reason 
Misconceived.     60.  Another  View  of  Reason. 

PART   V 

THE  SOCIAL   WILL 

Chapter  XVII.    Characteristics  of  the  Social  Will  ...     131 
61.  What  is  the  Social  Will?    62.  Social  Will  and  Social 
Habits.    6.3.  Social  Will  and  Social  Organization.    64.  The 
Social  Will  and  Ideal  Ends.     65.  The  Permanent  Social 
Will. 

Chapter  XVIII.     Expressions  of  the  Social  Will 139 

66.  Custom.  67.  The  Ciround  for  the  Authority  of 
Custom.  68.  The  Origin  and  the  Persistence  of  Customs. 
69.  Law.     70.  Pubhc  Opinion. 

Chapter  XIX.     The  Sharers  in  the  Social  Will 148 

71.  The  Community.  72.  The  Community  and  the 
Dead.  73.  The  Community  and  the  Supernatural. 
74.  Religion  and  the  Community.  75.  The  Spread  of  the 
Community. 

PART   VI 

THE  REAL  SOCIAL   WILL 

Chapter  XX.     The  Imperfect  Social  Will 159 

76.  The  Apparent  and  the  Real  Social  Will.  77.  The  Will 
of  the  Majority.  78.  Ignorance  and  Error  and  the  Social 
Will.  79.  Heedlessness  and  the  Social  Will.  80.  Rational 
Elements  in  the  Irrational  Will.  81.  The  Social  Will  and 
the  Selfishness  of  the  Individual. 

Chapter  XXI.     The  Rational  Social  Will 169 

82.  Reasonable  Ends.  83.  An  Objection  Answered. 
84.  Reasonable  Social  Ends.     85.  The  Ethics  of  Reason. 

86.  The  Development  of  Civilization. 

Chapter  XXII.     The  Individual  and  the   Social  Will.     179 

87.  Man's  Multiple  Allegiance.  88.  The  Appeal  to 
Reason.  89.  The  Ethics  of  Reason  and  the  Varying 
Moral  Codes. 

PART   VII 

THE  SCHOOLS  OF   THE  MORALISTS 

Chapter  XXIII.     Intuitionism 187 

90.  What  is  it?    91.  Varieties  of  Intuitionism.    92.  Argu- 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

merits  for  Intuitionism.  93.  Arguments  against  Intui- 
tionism.     94.  The  Value  of  Moral  Intuitions. 

Chapter  XXIV.  Egoism 203 

95.  WTiat  is  Egoism?  96.  Crass  Egoisms.  97.  Equivocal 
Egoism?  98.  What  is  Meant  bj'  the  Self?  99.  Egoism 
and  the  Broader  Self.  100.  Egoism  not  Unavoidable. 
101.  Varieties  of  Egoism.  102.  The  Arguments  for 
Egoisni.  103.  The  Argument  against  Egoism.  104.  The 
^Moralist's  Interest  in  Egoism. 

Chapter  XXV.     Utilitarianism 220 

105.  WTiat  is  Utilitarianism?  106.  Bentham's  Doctrine. 
107.  The  Doctrine  of  J.  S.  Mill.  108.  The  Argument  for 
Utilitarianism.  109.  The  Distribution  of  Happiness. 
110.  The  Calculus  of  Plea.sures.  111.  The  Difficulties 
of  Other  Schools.  112.  Summar3^  of  Arguments  for 
UtUitarianism.  113.  Arguments  against  Utilitarian- 
ism.    114.  Transfigured  Utilitarianism. 

Chapter  XXVI.     Nature,  Perfection,  Self-realization    243 

I.    Nature 

115.  Human  Nature  as  Accepted  Standard.  116.  Hu- 
man Nature  and  the  Law  of  Nature.  117.  Vagueness 
of  the  Law  of  Nature.  118.  The  Appeal  to  Nature  and 
Intuitionism. 

II.    Perfection 

119.  Perfection  and  Type.  120.  More  and  Less  Perfect 
Types.     121.  Perfectionism  and  Intuitionism. 

III.  Self-realization 
122.  The  Self-realization  Doctrine.  123.  The  Doctrine 
Akin  to  that  of  Following  Nature.  124.  Is  the  Doctrine 
More  Egoistic?  125.  Why  Aim  to  Realize  Capacities? 
126.  The  Problem  of  Self-.sacrifice.  127.  Self-.satisfaction 
and  Self-sacrifice.  128.  Can  Moral  Self-sacrifice  be  a 
Duty?  129.  Self-sacrifice  and  the  Identity  of  Selves. 
130."  Questions  which  Seem  to  be  Left  Open. 

Chapter  XXVII.    The  Ethics  of  Evolution 266 

131.  The  Significance  of  the  Title.  132.  Evolution  and 
the  Schools  of  the  Moralists.  133.  The  Ethics  of  Indi- 
vidual Evolutionists. 

Chapter  XXVHI.     Pessimlsm 274 

134.  The  Philosophy  of  the  Pessimist.  135.  Comment 
on  the  Ethics  of  Pessimism. 


CONTEXTS  xi 

PAGE 

Chapter  XXIX.     Kaxt,  Hegel  axd  Nietzsche 279 

136.  Kant.     137.  Hegel.     138.  Nietzsche. 

PART   VIII 
THE   ETHICS   OF   THE  SOCIAL   WILL 

Chapter  XXX.     Aspects  of  the  Ethics  of  Reasox 289 

139.  The    Doctrine    Supported    by    the    Other    Schools. 

140.  Its  Method  of  Approach  to  Problems.  141.  Its 
Solution  of  Certain  Difficulties.  142.  The  Cultivation  of 
Our  Capacities. 

Chapter  XXXI.     The  Moral  Law  and  Moral  Ideals..     298 
143.  Duties  and  Virtues.     144.  The  Negative  -\spect  of 
the  Moral  Law.     145.  How  Can  One  Know  the  Moral 
Law? 

Chapter  XXXII.    The  ^^Ioral  Conxepts 303 

146.  Good  and  Bad;  Right  and  Wrong.  147.  Duty  and 
Obligation.  148.  Reward  and  Punishment.  149.  Virtues 
and  Vices.     150.  Conscience. 

Chapter  XXXIII.     The  Ethics  of  the  Individual 313 

151.  What  is  Meant  by  the  Term?  152.  The  Mrtues  of 
the  Individual.     153.  Conventional  Moralit}^ 

Chapter  XXXIV.     The  Ethics  of  the  State 319 

154.  The  Aim  of  the  State.  155.  Its  Origin  and  Authority. 
156.  Forms  of  Organization.    157.  The  Laws  of  the  State. 

158.  The  Rights  and  Duties  of  the  State. 

Chapter  XXXV.    International  Ethics 330 

159.  What  is  Meant  by  the  Term.  160.  Our  Method  of 
Approach  to  the  Subject.  161.  Some  Problems  of  Inter- 
national Ethics.  162.  The  Other  Side  of  the  Shield. 
163.  The  Solution.     164.  The  Necessity  for  Caution. 

Chapter  XXXVI.     Ethics  ant)  Other  Disciplines 343 

165.  Sciences  that  Concern  the  Moralist.  166.  Ethics 
and  Philosophv.  167.  Ethics  and  Religion.  168.  Ethics 
and  Belief.     169.  The  Last  Word. 

Notes 363 

Index 375 


PART  I 

THE  ACCEPTED  CONTENT 
OF  MORALS 


CHAPTER  I 
IS  THERE  AN  ACCEPTED  CONTENT? 

1.  The  Point  in  Dispute.  —  I^  there  an  accepted  con- 
tent of  morals?  Can  we  use  the  expression  without 
going  on  to  ask:     Accepted  where,  when,  and  by  whom? 

To  be  sure,  certain  eminent  moralists  have  inclined  to 
maintain  that  men  are  in  substantial  agreement  in  re- 
gard to  their  moral  judgments.  Joseph  Butler,  writing 
in  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that,  however  men  may  dispute  about  partic- 
ulars, there  is  an  universally  acknowledged  standard  of 
virtue,  professed  in  public  in  all  ages  and  all  countries, 
made  a  show  of  by  all  men,  enforced  by  the  primary 
and  fundamental  laws  of  all  civil  constitutions:  namely, 
justice,  veracity,  and  regard  to  common  good.^  Sir 
Leslie  Stephen,  writing  in  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth, 
tells  us  that  "  in  one  sense  moralists  are  almost  unani- 
mous; in  another  they  are  hopelessly  discordant.  They 
are  unanimous  in  pronouncing  certain  classes  of  conduct 
to  be  right  and  the  opposite  wrong-  No  moralist  denies 
that  cruelty,  falsity  and  intemperance  are  vicious,  or 
that  mercy,  truth  and  temperance  are  virtuous."  ^ 

In  other  words,  these  writers  would  teach  us  that  men 
are,  on  the  whole,  agreed  in  approving,  explicitly  or  im- 
plicitly, some  standard  of  conduct  sufficiently  definite 

1  Dissertation  on  the  Nature  of  Virtue. 

2  The  Science  of  Ethics,  chapter  i,  §  1. 

3 


4        ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

to  serve  as  a  code  of  morals.  But  that  there  is  such  a 
substantial  agreement  among  men  has  not  impressed  all 
observers  to  the  same  degree,  Locke,  who  wrote  before 
Butler,  based  his  arguments  against  the  existence  of 
innate  moral  maxims  upon  the  wide  divergencies  found 
among  various  classes  of  men  touching  what  is  right  and 
what  is  wrong.^  The  historian,  the  anthropologist  and 
the  sociologist  reinforce  his  reasonings  with  a  wealth  of 
illustration  not  open  to  the  men  of  an  earlier  time.  They 
present  us  with  codes,  not  a  code;  with  multitudinous 
standards,  not  a  single  standard;  with  what  has  been 
accepted  here  or  there,  at  this  time  or  at  that;  and  we 
may  well  ask  ourselves  where,  amid  this  profusion,  we 
are  to  find  the  one  and  acceptable  code. 

2.  What  Constitutes  Substantial  Agreement?  —  To 
be  sure,  we  may  be  very  generous  in  our  interpretation 
of  what  constitutes  substantial  agreement;  we  may  deny 
significance  to  all  sorts  of  discrepancies  by  relegating 
them  to  the  unimpressive  class  of  "  disputes  about  partic- 
ulars." Such  an  impressionistic  indifference  to  detail 
may  leave  us  with  something  on  our  hands  as  little 
serviceable  as  a  composite  photograph  made  from  indi- 
vidual objects  which  have  little  in  common,  a  blur  lack- 
ing all  definite  outline  and  not  recognizable  as  any  object 
at  all.  No  man  can  guide  his  conduct  by  the  common 
core  of  many  or  of  all  moral  codes.  Taken  in  its  bald 
abstraction,  it  is  not  a  code  or  anything  like  a  code. 
Who  can  walk,  without  walking  in  some  particular  way, 
in  some  direction,  at  some  time?  "Who  can  mind  his 
manners  without  being  mannerly  in  accordance  with  the 
usages  of  some  race  or  people? 

3  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding,  Book  I,  chapter  iii. 


IS    THERE    AN    ACCEPTED    CONTENT  ?        5 

Those  who  content  themselves  with  enunciating  very- 
general  moral  principles  may,  it  is  true,  be  of  no  little 
service  to  their  fellow-men;  but  that  is  only  because  their 
fellow-men  are  able  to  supply  the  details  that  convert 
the  blur  into  a  picture.  Some  twenty-four  hundred  years 
ago  Heraclitus  told  his  contemporaries  "  to  act  accord- 
ing to  nature  with  understanding  " ;  we  are  often  told 
today  that  the  rule  of  our  lives  should  be  "  to  do  good." 
Had  the  ancient  Greek  not  possessed  his  own  notions 
of  what  might  properly  be  meant  by  nature  and  by 
understanding,  did  we  not  ourselves  have  some  rather 
definite  conception  of  what  actions  may  properly  fall 
under  the  caption  of  doing  good,  such  admonitions  could 
not  lead  to  the  stirring  of  a  finger.  Who  would  appeal 
to  his  physician  for  advice  as  to  diet,  if  he  expected 
from  him  no  more  than  the  counsel  to  eat,  at  the  proper 
hours,  enough,  but  not  too  much,  of  suitable  food? 

If,  then,  we  confine  our  admonitions  to  the  group  of 
abstractions  which  constitute  the  universally  acknowl- 
edged standard  of  virtue  when  all  the  individual  dif- 
ferences which  characterize  different  codes  have  been 
ignored,  we  preach  what,  taken  alone,  no  man  can  live 
by,  and  no  community  of  men  has  ever  attempted  to 
live  by.  If  we  leave  it  to  our  hearers  to  drape  our  naked 
abstractions  with  concrete  details,  each  will  set  to  work 
in  a  different  way.  The  method  of  the  composite  photo- 
graph seems  unprofitable  in  attempting  to  solve  the 
problem  of  morals. 

3.  Dogmatic  Assumption.  —  There  is,  however,  a 
second  way  by  which  the  variations  which  characterize 
different  codes  may  come  to  be  relegated  to  a  position 
of   relative   insignificance.    We  may   assume  that  our 


6        ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

own  code  is  the  ultimate  standard  by  which  all  others 
are  to  be  judged,  and  we  may  set  down  deviations  from  it 
to  the  account  of  the  ignorance  or  the  perversity  of  our 
fellowmen.  So  regarded,  they  are  aberrations  from  the 
normal  and  only  true  code  of  conduct;  interesting,  per- 
haps, but  little  enlightening,  for  they  can  have  little 
bearing  upon  our  conceptions  of  what  we  ought  to  do. 

A  presumption  against  this  arbitrary  assumption  that 
we  have  the  one  and  only  desirable  code  is  suggested  by 
the  unthinking  acceptance  of  the  traditional  by  those 
who  are  lacking  in  enlightenment  and  in  the  capacity  for 
reflection.  Is  it  not  significant  that  a  contact  with 
new  ways  of  thinking  has  a  tendency,  at  least,  to  make 
men  broaden  their  horizon  and  to  revise  some  of  their 
views? 

In  other  fields,  we  hope  to  attain  to  a  capacity  for 
self-criticism.  We  expect  to  learn  from  other  men. 
Why  should  we,  in  the  sphere  of  morals,  lay  claim  to 
the  possession  of  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth?  Why  should  we  refuse  to  learn  from 
anyone?  Such  a  position  seems  unreasoning.  It  puts 
moral  judgments  beyond  the  pale  of  argument  and  in- 
telligent discussion.  It  is  an  assumption  of  infallibility 
little  in  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  science.  The  fact 
that  a  given  standard  of  conduct  is  in  harmony  with  our 
traditions,  habits  of  thought,  and  emotional  responses, 
does  not  prove  to  other  men  that  it  is,  not  one  of  a  nimi- 
ber  of  accepted  codes,  but  in  a  quite  peculiar  sense 
acceptable,  a  thing  to  put  in  a  class  by  itself  —  the  class 
into  which  each  mother  puts  her  own  child,  as  over 
against  other  children. 

Moreover,  such  an  unreasoned  assumption  of  superi- 


IS    THERE    AN    ACCEPTED    CONTENT  ?        7 

ority  must  make  one  little  sympathetic  in  one's  attitude 
toward  the  moral  life  of  other  peoples.  Into  the  sig- 
nificance of  their  social  organization,  of  their  customs, 
their  laws,  one  can  gain  no  insight.  Their  hopes,  their 
fears,  their  strivings,  their  successes  and  their  failures, 
their  approval  and  disapproval  of  their  fellows,  their 
peace  of  conscience  and  their  remorse,  must  leave  us 
cold  and  aloof. 

It  is  not  profitable  for  us  to  assume  at  the  outset  that 
the  differences  exhibited  in  the  moral  judgments  of  in- 
dividuals or  of  peoples  are  of  minor  significance.  They 
are  facts  to  be  dealt  with  in  the  light  of  some  theory. 
An  ethical  theory  which  ignores  them  must  rest  upon 
a  narrow  and  insecure  foundation.  It  is  exposed  to 
assault  from  many  quarters.  It  may,  in  default  of  better 
means  of  defence,  be  compelled  to  take  refuge  behind 
the  blind  wall  of  dogmatic  assertion.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  theory  which  gives  them  frank  recognition,  and 
strives  to  exhibit  their  real  significance  in  the  life  of  the 
individual  and  of  the  race,  may  be  able  to  show  lying 
among  them  the  golden  cord  of  reason  which  saves  them 
from  the  charge  of  being  incoherent  facts.  It  may  even 
lead  us  back  to  a  conservatism  no  longer  unreasoning, 
but  rationally  defensible  and  conscious  of  its  proper 
limits.  The  blindly  conservative  man  seems  to  be  faced 
with  the  alternative  of  stagnation  or  revolution.  The 
rationally  conservative  may  regard  the  development  of 
the  moral  life  as  a  Pilgrim's  Progress,  not  without  its 
untoward  accidents,  but,  in  spite  of  them,  a  gradual  ad- 
vance toward  a  desirable  goal. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  CODES  OF  COMMUNITIES 

4.  The  Codes  of  Communities:  Justice.  —  In  view  of 
the  existing  tendency  in  the  average  man,  and  even  in 
some  philosophers,  to  pass  lightly  over  the  diversities  ex- 
hibited by  different  codes,  it  is  well  to  cast  a  brief  pre- 
liminary glance  at  the  content  of  morals  as  accepted, 
both  by  communities  of  men,  and  by  their  more  reflective 
spokesmen,  the  moralists.  Let  us  first  take  a  look  at 
the  codes  of  communities. 

We  have  seen  that  Butler  viewed  justice,  veracity  and 
regard  to  common  good  as  virtues  accepted  among  men 
everywhere.  But  we  may  also  see,  if  we  look  into  his 
pages,  that  he  neglected  to  point  out  that  there  may  be 
the  widest  divergencies  in  men's  notions  of  what  consti- 
tutes justice,  veracity  and  common  good.  And  men 
differ  widely  on  the  score  of  the  degree  of  emphasis  to 
be  laid  upon  their  observance. 

Take  justice.  Where  men  possess  a  code,  written  or 
unwritten,  that  may  properly  be  called  moral,  we  expect 
of  them  the  judgment  that  guilt  should  be  punished. 
But  what  shall  be  accounted  guilt?  What  shall  be  the 
measure  of  retribution?  Who  shall  be  fixed  upon  as 
guilty? 

As  to  what  constitutes  guilt.  We  have  only  to  remind 
ourselves  that  the  Dyak  head-hunter  is  not  condemned 

8 


THE  CODES    OF    COMMUNITIES  9 

by  his  fellows,  but  is  admired ;  ^  that  the  fattening  and 
eating  of  a  slave  may,  in  a  given  primitive  community, 
be  accounted  no  crime;  -  that  infanticide  has  been  most 
widely  approved,  and  that  not  merely  in  primitive  com- 
munities, for  Greece  and  Rome,  when  they  were  far 
from  primitive,  practiced  certain  forms  of  it  wuth  a  view 
to  the  good  of  the  state ;  ^  that  the  holding  of  a  fellow- 
creature  in  bondage,  and  exploiting  him  for  one's  own 
advantage,  even  under  the  lash,  was,  until  recently,  not 
a  crime  in  the  eye  of  the  law  even  in  the  most  civilized 
states.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  a  crime  to  eat 
a  female  opossum.*  The  impressive  imperative:  Thou 
shalt  not!  appears  to  bear  unmistakable  reference  to 
time  and  circumstance. 

And  what  is  the  natural  and  proper  measure  of  punish- 
ment? The  ancient  and  primitive  rule  of  an  eye  for  an 
eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth  suggests  the  figure  of  the 
scales,  the  impartially  meting  out  to  each  man  of  his  due. 
It  is  obviously  a  rule  that  cannot  be  applied  in  all  cases. 
One  cannot  take  the  tooth  of  a  toothless  man,  or  compel 
a  thievish  beggar  to  restore  fruit  which  he  has  eaten. 
We  should  be  horrified  were  any  serious  attempt  made 
to  make  the  rule  the  basis  of  legislation  in  any  civilized 
state  today,  but  men  have  not  always  been  so  fastidious. 
Approximations  to  it  have  been  incorporated  into  the 
laws  of  various  peoples. 

But  all  have  modified  it  to  some  degree,  and  the 
modifications  have  taken  many  forms  —  the  punishment 
of  someone  not  the  criminal,  compensation  in  money  or 

1  Westerm.\rck,  The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral 
Ideas,  London,  1906,  I,  chapter  xiv. 

2  Westermarck,  op.  cit.  II.  chapter  xlvi. 

3  Ibid.,  I,  chapter  xvii.  ^  Jbid.,  1,  chapter  iv,  p.  124. 


10     ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

in  goods,  incarceration,  and  what  not.  Nor  have  the 
modifications  been  made  solely  on  account  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  applying  the  rule  baldly  stated.  Other  in- 
fluences have  been  at  work. 

Thus,  in  the  famous  Babylonian  code,  the  man  who 
struck  out  the  eye  of  a  patrician  lost  his  own  eye  in 
return,  and  his  tooth  answered  for  the  tooth  of  an  equal  — 
but  the  rule  was  not  made  general.^  In  state  after  state 
it  has  been  found  just  to  treat  differently  the  patrician, 
the  plebeian,  the  slave,  the  man,  the  woman,  the  priest. 
In  the  very  state  to  which  Butler  belonged,  benefit  of 
clergy  could  be  claimed,  up  to  relatively  recent  times, 
by  those  who  could  read.  The  educated  criminal  es- 
caped hanging  for  offences  for  which  his  illiterate  neigh- 
bor had  to  swing.^ 

Nor  is  there  any  clear  concensus  of  opinion  touching 
the  question  of  who  shall  be  selected  as  the  bearer  of 
punishment.  If  a  man  has  injured  another  unintention- 
ally, shall  he  be  held  to  make  amends?  It  has  seemed 
just  to  men  that  he  should.'  That  one  man  should  be 
made  responsible  for  the  misdeeds  of  another,  under  the 
principle  of  collective  responsibility,  has  commended 
itself  as  just  to  a  multitude  of  minds.  Not  merely  the 
sins  of  the  fathers,  but  those  of  the  most  distant  relations, 
those  of  neighbors,  of  fellow-tribesmen,  of  fellow-citizens, 
have  been  visited  upon  those  whose  sole  guilt  lay  in  such 
a  connection  with  the  directly  guilty  parties.  This  is 
not  a  sporadic  phenomenon.  Among  the  ancient  He- 
brews, in  Babylonia,  in  Greece,  in  the  later  legislation  of 
Rome,   in  medieval   and  even   in  modern   Europe,  the 

0  HoBHOusE,  Morals  in  Evolution,  I,  chapter  iii,  §  3;  New 
York,  1906.       «  Ibid.,  §   11.  7  Westermarck,  chapter  ix. 


THE  CODES    OF    COMMUNITIES  11 

principle  of  collective  responsibility  has  been  accepted 
and  has  seemed  acceptable.  Asia,  Africa  and  Oceania 
have  cast  votes  for  it.    So  have  the  Americas.* 

5.  The  Codes  of  Communities:  Veracity.  —  As  to 
veracity:  It  has  undoubtedly  been  valued  to  some  de- 
gree, and  with  certain  limitations,  by  tribes  and  nations 
the  most  diverse  in  their  degrees  of  culture.  Did  men 
never  speak  the  truth  they  might  well  never  speak  at 
all.  But  to  maintain  that  absolute  veracity  has  at 
all  times  been  greatly  valued  would  be  an  exaggeration. 
The  lie  of  courtesy,  the  clever  lie,  the  lie  to  the  stranger, 
have  been  and  still  are,  in  many  communities  both  un- 
civilized and  more  advanced,  not  merely  condoned,  but 
approved.  With  the  defence  w^hich  has  been  made  of 
the  doctrines  of  mental  reservation  and  pious  fraud 
students  of  church  history  are  familiar.  In  diplomacy 
and  in  war  today  highly  civilized  nations  find  decep- 
tions of  many  sorts  profitable  to  them,  nor  are  such 
generally  condemned.^ 

What  modern  government  does  not  employ  secret  ser- 
vice agents,  and  value  them  in  proportion  to  the  degree 
of  skill  with  which  they  manage  to  deceive  their  fellows, 
while  limiting  the  exercise  of  professional  good  faith  to 
their  intercourse  with  their  paj^master?  The  secret  ser- 
vice agent  of  transparent  frankness,  who  could  not  bear 
to  deceive  his  neighbor,  would  not  hold  his  post  for  a 
day.     He  would  be  a  subject  for  Homeric  laughter. 

Moreover,  if  the  question  may  be  raised:  what  consti- 
tutes justice?  may  one  not  equally  well  ask:  what  con- 

8  Westermarck,    I,   chapter   ii;    Dewey   and   Tufts,   Ethics, 
New  York,  1919,  Part  I,  chapter  ii. 

9  Westermarck,  II,  chapters  xxx  and  xxxi. 


12      ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

stitutes  veracity  or  its  opposite?  Where  does  the  silence 
of  indifference  shade  into  purposed  concealment,  and  the 
latter  into  what  is  unequivocally  deception?  At  what 
point  does  deception  blossom  out  into  the  unmistakable 
lie?  One  may  take  advantage  of  an  accidental  mis- 
understanding of  what  one  has  said;  one  may  use  am- 
biguous language;  one  may  point  instead  of  speaking. 
Between  going  about  with  a  head  of  glass,  with  all  one's 
thoughts  displayed  as  in  a  show-case  to  every  comer, 
and  the  settled  purpose  to  deceive  by  the  direct  verbal 
falsification,  there  is  a  long  series  of  intermediate  posi- 
tions. The  commercial  maxim  that  one  is  not  bound 
to  teach  the  man  with  whom  one  is  dealing  how  to  conduct 
his  business,  and  the  lawyer's  dictum  that  the  advocate 
is  under  no  obligation  to  put  himself  in  the  position 
of  the  judge,  obviously,  will  bear  much  stretching. 

6.  The  Codes  of  Communities:  the  Common  Good. — 
Nor  are  the  facts  which  confront  us  less  perplexing  when 
we  turn  to  that  "  regard  to  the  common  good  "  which 
Butler  finds  to  be  acknowledged  and  enforced  by  the 
primary  and  fundamental  laws  of  all  civil  constitutions. 
Whether  we  look  at  the  past  or  view  the  present,  whether 
we  study  primitive  communities  or  confine  ourselves  to 
civilized  nations,  we  see  that  common  good  is  not,  appar- 
ently, conceived  as  the  good  of  all  men,  however  much 
the  words  "  justice  "  and  "  humanity  "  may  be  upon  men's 
lips. 

Has  any  modern  state  as  yet  succeeded  in  incorporat- 
ing in  its  civil  constitution  such  provisions  as  will  ensure 
to  all  classes  of  its  subjects  any  considerable  share  in  the 
common  good?  Slaves  and  animals,  said  Aristotle,  have 
no  share  in  happiness,  nor  do  they  live  after  their  own 


THE  CODES    OF    COMMUNITIES         13 

choice.^"  The  pervading  unrest  of  the  modern  economic 
community  is  due  to  the  widespread  conviction  that  the 
existing  organization  of  society  does  not  sufficiently  make 
for  the  happiness  of  all.  Some  states  with  a  high  degree 
of  culture  have  not  even  made  a  pretence  of  having  any 
such  aim.  They  have  deliberately  legislated  for  the  few." 
Even  where  the  avowed  aim  is  the  common  good  of 
all,  states  have  assumed  that  some  must  be  sacrificed 
for  others.  Certain  individuals  are  selected  to  die  in  the 
trenches  in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  that  others  may  be 
guaranteed  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  Grotius, 
the  famous  jurist  of  the  seventeenth  century,  has  been 
criticized  for  holding  that  a  beleaguered  town  might 
justly  deliver  up  to  the  enemy  a  small  number  of  its 
citizens  in  order  to  purchase  immunity  for  the  rest.  How 
far  do  the  cases  dififer  in  principle?  "  Among  persons 
variously  endowed,"  wrote  Hegel,  "  inequality  must  oc- 
cur, and  equality  would  be  wrong."  ^^  Commonwealths 
of  many  degrees  of  development  have  recognized  inequal- 
ities of  many  sorts,  and  have  treated  their  subjects  accord- 
ingly. 

10  Politics,  iii,  9. 

11  The  "  citizens  "  of  the  ancient  Greek  state  were  a  privi- 
leged class  who  legislated  in  their  own  interest.  Let  the  reader 
look  into  Plato's  Laws  and  Aristotle's  Politics  and  see  how 
inconceivable  the  cultivated  Greek  found  what  is  now  the  ideal 
of  a  modern  democracy.  "  Citizens  "  should  own  landed  property, 
and  work  it  by  slaves,  barbarians  and  servants.  They  should 
not  be  ''  ignoble "  mechanics  or  petty  traders.  Compare  the 
spirit  of  Froiss.\kt's  Chronicles,  in  the  Middle  Ages.  See  what 
Bryce  (South  America,  New  York,  1918,  chapters  xi  and  xv)  saj-s 
about  the  position  of  the  Negro  in  our  Southern  states,  and  of  the 
Indians  in  South  American  republics. 

12  Hegel,  The  Philosophy  of  Right,  translated  by  Dyde, 
London,  1896,  p.  56. 


14     ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

"  For  diet,"  said  Bentham  with  repellent  frankness, 
"  nothing  but  self-regarding  affection  will  serve."  Benev- 
olence he  considered  a  valuable  addition  "  for  a  dessert." 
He  had  in  mind  the  individual,  and  he  did  injustice  to 
individuals  in  certain  of  their  relations.  But  how  do 
things  look  when  we  turn  our  attention  to  the  relations 
between  states?  Does  any  state  actually  make  it  a 
practice  to  treat  its  neighbor  as  itself?  Would  its  citi- 
zens approve  of  its  doing  so? 

The  Roman  was  compelled  to  formulate  a  jus  gentium, 
a  law  of  nations,  to  deal  with  those  who  held,  to  him, 
a  place  beyond  the  pale  of  law  as  he  knew  it.^^^  Many 
centuries  have  elapsed  since  pagan  philosophers  taught 
the  brotherhood  of  man,  and  since  Christian  divines 
began  to  preach  it  with  passionate  fervor.  Yet  civilized 
nations  today  are  still  seeking  to  find  a  modus  vivendi, 
which  may  put  an  end  to  strife  and  enable  them  to  live 
together.  The  jus  gentium,  or  its  modern  equivalent,  is, 
alas!  still  in  its  rudiments. 

To  obviate  misunderstanding  at  this  point,  it  is  well 
to  state  that,  in  adducing  all  the  above  facts,  I  do  not 
mean  to  argue  that  it  is  abnormal  and  an  undesirable 
thing  that  the  scales  of  justice  should,  at  times,  be 
weighted  in  divers  ways.  I  am  not  maintaining  that 
the  distribution  of  common  good  should  proceed  upon 
the  principle  of  strict  impartiality.  What  is  possible  and 
is  desirable  in  this  field  is  not  something  to  be  decided 
off-hand.  But  the  facts  suffic.e  to  illustrate  the  truth 
that  the  discrepancies  to  be  found  in  the  codes  of  differ- 
ent communities  can  scarcely  be  dismissed  as  unimportant 
details.    They  are  something  far  too  significant  for  that. 

13  See  Sir  Henrv  Maine,  Ancient  Law,  chapter  iii. 


CHAPTER   III 
THE  CODES  OF  THE  MORALISTS 

7.  The  Moralists.  —  If,  from  the  codes,  or  the  more  or 
less  vague  bodies  of  opinion,  which  have  characterized 
different  communities,  we  turn  to  the  moralists,  we  find 
similar  food  for  thought. 

But  who  are  the  moralists?  Can  we  put  into  one 
class  those  who  preach  a  short-sighted  selfishness  or  a 
calculating  egoism  and  those  who  urge  upon  us  the 
law  of  love?  Those  who  recommend  a  contempt  of 
mankind,  and  those  who  inculcate  a  reverence  for  human- 
ity? Those  who  incline  to  leave  us  to  our  own  devices, 
telling  us  to  listen  to  conscience,  and  those  who  draw  up 
for  us  elaborate  sets  of  rules  to  guide  conduct?  The  his- 
tories of  ethics  are  rather  tolerant  in  herding  together 
sheep  and  goats.  And  not  without  reason.  Those  whom 
they  include  have  been  in  a  sense  the  spokesmen  of  their 
fellows.  Their  words  have  found  an  echo  in  the  souls 
of  many.  They  are  concerned  with  a  rule  of  life,  and 
their  rule  of  life,  such  as  it  is,  rests  upon  some  principle 
which  has  impressed  men  as  being  not  wholly  unreason- 
able. 

In  taking  a  glance  at  what  they  have  to  offer  us,  I 
shall  not  go  far  afield,  and  shall  exercise  a  brevity  com- 
patible with  the  purpose  of  mere  illustration.  To  the 
moralists  of  ancient  Greece,  and,  to  a  lesser  degree,  to 
those  of  the  Roman  Empire,  to  the  Christian  teachers 

15 


16      ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

who  succeeded  to  their  heritage  in  the  centuries  which 
followed,  and  to  the  more  or  less  independent  thinkers 
who  made  their  appearance  after  the  Reformation,  we 
can  trace  our  ethical  pedigree.  For  our  purpose  we  need 
seek  no  wider  field.  Here  we  may  find  suflficiently  nota- 
ble contrasts  of  opinion  to  disturb  the  dogmatic  slum- 
ber of  even  an  inert  mind.  The  most  cursory  glance 
makes  us  inclined  to  accept  v%dth  some  reserve  Stephen's 
claim  that  "  the  difference  between  different  systems  is 
chiefly  in  the  details  and  special  application  of  gen- 
erally admitted  principles." 

8.  Epicurean  and  Stoic.  —  Thus,  Aristippus  of  Gyrene 
advised  men  to  grasp  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  rather 
than  to. await  the  more  uncertain  pleasure  of  the  future; 
but  he  also  counselled,  for  prudential  reasons,  the  avoid- 
ance of  a  conflict  with  the  laws.  Such  advice  takes 
cognizance  of  the  self-love  of  the  individual,  and  is  not 
self-love  reasonable?  Nevertheless,  such  advice  might 
be  given  by  a  discouraged  criminal  of  a  reflective  turn 
of  mind,  on  his  release  from  prison,  to  a  comrade  not 
yet  chastened  by  incarceration.  Epicurus  praises  tem- 
perance and  fortitude,  but  only  as  measures  of  prudence. 
He  praises  justice,  but  only  in  so  far  as  it  enables  us 
to  escape  harm,  and  frees  us  from  that  dread  of  dis- 
covery that  haunts  the  steps  of  the  evil-doer.  His  more 
specific  maxims,  do  not  fall  in  love  with  a  woman,  be- 
come the  father  of  a  family,  or,  generally,  go  into  poli- 
tics, smack  strongly  of  the  rule  of  life  recommended  to 
Feuillet's  hero,  Monsieur  de  Camors,  by  his  worldly-wise 
and  cynical  father. 

Contrast  with  these  men  the  Stoics,  whose  rule  of  life 
was  to  follow  Nature,  and  to  eschew  the  pursuit  of 


THE    CODES    OF    THE    MORALISTS      17 

pleasure.  Man's  nature,  said  Epictetus,  is  social;  wrong- 
doing is  antisocial;  affection  is  natural.^  Said  Marcus 
Aurelius,  it  is  characteristic  of  the  rational  soul  for  a 
man  to  love  his  neighbor.  The  cautious  bachelor  imbued 
with  Epicurean  principles  would  find  strange  and  dis- 
concerting the  Stoic  position  touching  citizenship:  "My 
nature  is  rational  and  social;  and  my  city  and  country, 
so  far  as  I  am  Antoninus,  is  Rome,  but  so  far  as  I  am  a 
man,  it  is  the  world.  The  things  then  which  are  useful 
to  these  cities  are  alone  useful  to  me."  ^ 

9.  Plato;  Aristotle;  the  Church.  —  No  more  famous 
classification  of  the  virtues  —  those  qualities  of  character 
which  it  is  desirable  for  a  man  to  have,  and  which  de- 
termine his  doing  what  it  is  desirable  that  he  should  do 
—  has  ever  been  drawn  up  than  that  offered  us  by  Plato: 
Wisdom,  Courage,  Temperance  and  Justice.^  It  is  inter- 
esting to  lay  beside  it  the  longer  list  drawn  up  by 
Aristotle,  and  to  compare  both  with  that  which  com- 
mended itself  to  the  mind  of  the  mediaeval  churchman. 

With  Aristotle,  the  virtues  are  made  to  include:* 

Wisdom  High-mindedness 

Justice  Ambition 

Courage  Gentleness 

Temperance  Friendliness 

Liberality  Truthfulness 

Magnificence  Decorous  Wit 

^  Discourses,  Book  1,  chapter  xxiii — a  clever  answer  to 
Epicurus. 

2  Thoughts,  Book  VI,  44;  translated  by  George  Long. 

^  For  Plato's  account  of  the  virtues  see  the  Republic,  Book 
rV,  and  the  Laws,  Book  I. 

*  Ethics;  I  refer  the  reader  to  the  admirable  exposition  and 
criticism  by  Sidgwick,  History  oj  Ethics,  London,  1896,  chapter 


18      ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

and  it  is  suggested  that,  although  scarcely  a  virtue,  a 
sense  of  shame  is  becoming  in  youth. 

We  find  the  Christian  teachers  especially  recommend- 
ing i^ 

Obedience  Humility 

Patience  Alienation  from  the  "  World  " 

Benevolence  Alienation  from  the  "  Flesh  " 

Purity 

and  their  lists  of  the  "  deadly  sins  "  they  select  from 
the  following: 

Pride  Envy 

Arrogance  Vain-Glory 

Anger  Gloominess 

Gluttony  Languid  Indifference. 
Unchastity 

Could  there  be  a  more  striking  contrast  than  that  be- 
tween the  mediaeval  code  and  those  of  the  great  Greek 
thinkers?  Plato  recommended  as  virtues  certain  general 
characteristics  of  character  much  admired  by  the  Greek 
of  his  day.  Aristotle  accepted  them  and  added  to  them. 
He  has  painted  much  more  in  detail  the  gifts  and  graces 
of  a  well-born  and  well-situated  Greek  gentleman  as  he 
conceived  him.  The  personage  would  cut  a  sorry  figure 
in  the  role  of  a  mediaeval  saint;  the  mediaeval  saint 
would  wear  a  tarnished  halo  if  endowed  with  the  Aris- 
totelian virtues. 


ii,  §§    10-12;   compare   Zeller,  Aristotle  and  the  Earlier  Peri- 
patetics. English  translation  London,  1897,  Volume  II,  chapter  xii. 
^  See   Sidgwick's  s>'mpathetic  account   of  the   Churchman'? 
view  of  the  virtues,  loc.  cit.,  chapter  iii. 


THE    CODES    OF    THE    MORALISTS      19 

The  one  ideal,  the  Greek,  breathes  an  air  of  self-asser- 
tion; the  other  one  of  self-abnegation.  Benevolence, 
Purity,  Humility  and  Unworldliness  are  not  to  be  found 
in  the  former;  Justice,  Courage  and  Veracity  appear  to 
be  missing  in  the  latter.  Wisdom,  insight,  has  given 
place  to  the  Obedience  appropriate  to  a  man  clearly 
conscious  of  a  Law,  not  man-made,  to  which  man  feels 
himself  to  be  subject. 

Indeed,  the  discrepancy  between  the  ideals  is  such  that 
Aristotle's  \'irtuously  high-minded  man  would  have  been 
conceived  by  the  mediaeval  churchman  to  be  living  in 
deadly  sin,  as  the  very  embodiment  of  pride  and  arro- 
gance. We  find  him  portrayed  as  neither  seeking  nor 
avoiding  danger,  for  there  are  few  things  about  which  he 
cares;  as  ashamed  to  accept  favors,  since  that  implies 
inferiorit}' ;  as  sluggish  and  indifferent  except  when  stim- 
ulated by  some  great  honor  to  be  gained  or  some  great 
work  to  be  performed;  as  frank,  for  this  is  character- 
istic of  the  man  who  despises  others;  as  admiring  little, 
for  nothing  is  great  to  him.  His  pride  prevents  him  from 
harboring  resentment,  from  seeking  praise,  and  from 
praising  others.  This  Nietzschean  hero  w^ould  attract 
attention  upon  any  stage:  "  The  step  of  the  high-minded 
man  is  slow,  his  voice  deep,  and  his  language  stately, 
for  he  who  feels  anxiety  about  few  things  is  not  apt  to 
be  in  a  hurry;  and  he  who  thinks  highly  of  nothing  is 
not  vehement."  '^ 

To  be  sure,  virtues  not  on  a  given  list  may  be  found  in, 
or  read  into,  some  of  the  writings  of  the  man  who  pre- 
sents it.    It  would  be  absurd  to  maintain  that  the  mcdi- 

8  Ethics,   Book    IV,    chapter    iii,    19,    translation   by    R.   W. 
Browne,  London,  1S65. 


20      ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

aeval  churchman  had  no  regard  for  justice,  courage  and 
veracity,  as  he  would  define  them,  or  that  Plato  and 
Aristotle  were  wholly  deaf  to  the  claims  of  benevolence. 
Nevertheless,  the  variations  in  the  emphasis  laid  on 
this  virtue  or  on  that,  or  in  the  conception  of  what  con- 
stitutes this  virtue  or  that,  may  yield  ideals  of  charac- 
ter and  of  conduct  which  bear  but  a  slight  family 
resemblance.  Imagine  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  lowering 
his  voice,  slowing  his  step,  and  cultivating  "  high- 
mindedness,"  or  striving  to  make  himself  a  pattern  of 
decorous   wit. 

10.  Later  Lists  of  the  Virtues.  —  The  codes  proposed 
by  the  moralists  of  a  later  time  are  numerous  and  widely 
scattering.  It  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  them  in  any 
brief  compass.  A  very  few  instances,  selected  from 
among  those  most  familiar  to  English  readers,  must  suf- 
fice to  indicate  the  diversity  of  their  nature. 

Hobbes,^  deeply  concerned  to  discover  some  modus 
Vivendi  which  should  put  a  check  upon  strife  between 
man  and  his  fellow-man,  and  save  us  from  a  life  "  soli- 
tary, poor,  nasty,  brutish  and  short,"  recommends  among 
other  virtues: 

Justice 

Eciuity 

Requital  of  benefits 

Sociability 

A  moderate  degree  of  forgiveness 

The  avoidance  of  pride  and  arrogance. 

Locke,^  who  believes  that  moral  principles  must  be 

^  Leviathan,  chapter  xv. 

8  Essay,  Book  IV,  chapter  iii,   §   18;   0/  Civil  Government, 
Book  II,  chapter  ii. 


THE    CODES    OF    THE    MORALISTS      21 

intuitively  evident  to  one  who  contemplates  the  nature 
of  God  and  the  relations  of  men  to  Him  and  to  each 
other,  thinks  it  worth  while  to  set  down  such  random 
maxims   as: 

No  government  allows  absolute  liberty. 

Where  there  is  no  property  there  is  no  injustice. 

All  men  are  originally  equal. 

IMen  ought  not  to  harm  one  another. 

Parents  have  a  right  to  control  their  children. 

Hume,^  whose  two  classes  of  virtues  comprise  the  qual- 
ities immediately  agreeable  or  useful  to  ourselves  and 
those  immediately  agreeable  or  useful  to  others,  offers 
us  an  extended  list.    He  puts  into  the  first  class: 

Discretion  Temperance 

Caution  Sobriety 

Enterprise  Patience 

Industry  Perseverance 

Frugality  Considerateness 

Economy  Secrecy 

Good  Sense,  etc.  Order,  etc. 

In  the  second  class  he  includes: 

Benevolence  Politeness 

Justice  Wit 

Veracity  Modesty 

Fidelity  Cleanliness. 

Manifestly,  the  lists  may  be  indefinitely  prolonged. 
Why   not   add   to  the   first   class   the   pachydermatous 

®  An  Enquiry  Concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals,  §  6,  Part  I. 


22      ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

indifference  to  rebuff's  which  is  of  such  service  to  the 
social  climber,  and,  to  the  second,  taste  in  dress  and  the 
habit  of  not  repeating  stories? 

Thomas  Reid  lays  stress  upon  the  deliverances  of  the 
individual  conscience,  when  consulted  in  a  quiet  hour. 
Nevertheless   he  proposes   five   fundamental   maxims:^" 

We  ought  to  exercise  a  rational  self-love,  and  prefer  a 
greater  to   a  lesser  good. 

We  should  follow  nature,  as  revealed  in  the  consti- 
tution of  man. 

We  should  exercise  benevolence. 

Right  and  wrong  are  the  same  for  all  in  the  same 
circumstances. 

We  should  venerate  and  obey  God. 

With  such  writers  we  may  contrast  the  Utilitarians 
and  the  adherents  of  the  doctrine  of  Self-realization,^^ 
who  lay  little  stress  upon  lists  of  virtues  or  duties,  but 
aim,  respectively,  at  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  great- 
est number,  and  at  the  harmonious  development  of  the 
faculties  of  man,  regarding  as  virtues  such  qualities  of 
character  as  make  for  the  attainment,  in  the  long  run,  of 
the  one  or  the  other  of  these  ends. 

11.  The  Stretching  of  Moral  Concepts.  —  The  in- 
stances given  suffice  to  show  that  the  moralists  speak 
with  a  variety  of  tongues.  The  code  of  one  age  is  apt 
to  seem  strange  and  foreign  to  the  men  of  another. 
Even  where  there  is  apparent  agreement,  a  closer  scru- 
tiny often  reveals  that  it  has  been  attained  by  a  process 

10  On  the  Active  Powers  nj  ^[an.  Essay  V,  chapter  i. 

11  These  will  be  discussed  below,  chapters  xxv  and  xxvi. 


THE    CODES    OF    THE    MORALISTS      23 

of  stretching  conceptions.  Take  for  example  the  so- 
called  "  cardinal  "  virtues  ^-  dwelt  upon  by  Plato.  The 
Stoics,  who  made  use  of  his  list,  changed  its  spirit. 
Cicero  stretches  justice  so  as  to  make  it  cover  a  w'atery 
benevolence.  St.  Augustine  finds  the  cardinal  virtues 
to  be  different  aspects  of  Love  to  God.  The  great  scho- 
lastic philosopher  of  the  thirteenth  century,  St.  Thomas, 
places  in  the  first  rank  the  Christian  graces  of  Faith, 
Hope  and  Charity,  but  still  finds  it  convenient  to  use 
the  Platonic  scheme  in  ordering  a  list  of  the  self-regarding 
virtues  taken  from  Aristotle.  Thus  may  the  pillars  of 
a  pagan  temple  be  utilized  as  structural  imits  in,  or 
embellishments  of,  a  Christian  church. 

Our  own  age  reveals  the  same  tendency.  Thomas 
Hill  Green,  the  Oxford  professor,  follows  Plato.  But 
with  him  we  find  wisdom  stretched  to  cover  artistic 
creation;  we  see  that  courage  and  temperance  have 
taken  on  new  faces;  and  justice  appears  to  be  able  to 
gather  under  its  wings  both  benevolence  and  veracity .^^ 
A  still  wider  divergence  from  the  original  understanding 
of  the  cardinal  virtues  is  that  of  Dewey,  who  conceives 
of  them  as  "  traits  essential  to  all  morality."  He  treats, 
under  temperance,  of  purity  and  reverence;  he  makes 
courage  synonymous  with  persistent  vigor;  he  extends 
justice  so  as  to  include  love  and  sympathy ;  he  transforms 
wisdom  into  conscientiousness.^* 

1-  From  cardo,  a  hinge.  These  virtues  were  supposed  to  be 
fundamental.  The  name  given  to  them  was  first  used  by 
Ambrose  in  the  fourth  century  a.d.  See  Sidgwick,  History  of 
Ethics,  chap,  ii,  p.  44. 

"  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  iii,  and  Book  FV, 
chapter  v. 

1*  Dewey  and  Tufts,  Ethics,  pp.  404-423. 


24      ACCEPTED    CONTENT    OF    MORALS 

This  variation  in  the  content  of  moral  concepts  may 
be  illustrated  from  any  quarter  in  the  field  of  ethics. 
Cicero's  circumspect  "  benevolence  "  advances  the  doc- 
trine that  "  whatever  one  can  give  without  suffering 
loss  should  be  given  even  to  an  entire  stranger."  Among 
such  obligations  he  reckons:  to  prohibit  no  one  from 
drinking  at  a  stream  of  running  water;  to  permit  any- 
one who  wishes  to  light  fire  from  fire;  to  give  faithful 
advice  to  one  who  is  in  doubt;  which  things,  as  he  naively 
remarks,  "  are  useful  to  the  receiver  and  do  no  harm 
to  the  giver."  ^^ 

Compare  with  this  the  admonition  to  love  one's  neigh- 
bor as  oneself;  Sidgwick's  "  self-evident  "  proposition  that 
"  I  ought  not  to  prefer  my  own  lesser  good  to  the  greater 
good  of  another;"  ^°  Bentham's  utilitarian  formula, 
"  everybody  to  count  for  one,  and  nobody  for  more  than 
one."  The  admonition,  "  be  benevolent,"  may  mean 
many  things. 

12,  The  Reflective  Mind  and  the  Moral  Codes.  — 
Even  the  cursory  glance  we  have  given  above  to  the 
moral  codes  of  different  communities  and  those  pro- 
posed by  individual  moralists  must  suffice  to  bring  any 
thoughtful  man  to  the  consciousness  that  they  differ 
widely  among  themselves,  and  that  the  differences  can 
scarcely  be  dismissed  as  insignificant.  A  little  reflec- 
tion will  suffice  to  convince  him,  furthermore,  that  to 
treat  all  other  codes  as  if  they  were  mere  pathological 
variations  from  his  own  is  indefensibly  dogmatic. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  differences  between  codes  should 
not  be  unduly  emphasized.  The  core  of  identity  is  there, 

^5  De  Officiis,  Book  I,  chapter  xvi. 

18  The  Methods  o}  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  xiii,  §  3. 


THE    CODES    OF    THE    MORALISTS      25 

and,  although  in  its  bald  abstractness  it  is  not 
enough  to  live  by,  it  is  vastly  significant,  nevertheless. 
If  there  were  not  some  congruity  in  the  materials,  they 
would  never  be  brought  together  as  the  subject  of  one 
science.  Unless  "  good,"  "  right,"  "  obligation,"  "  ap- 
proval," etc.,  or  the  rudimentary  conceptions  which  fore- 
shadow them  in  the  mind  of  the  most  primitive  human 
beings,  had  a  core  of  identity  which  could  be  traced  in 
societies  the  most  diverse,  there  would  be  no  significance 
in  speaking  of  the  enlightened  morality  of  one  people 
and  the  degraded  and  undeveloped  morality  of  another. 
There  could  be  no  history  of  the  development  of  the 
moral  ideas.  Collections  of  disparate  and  disconnected 
facts  do  not  constitute  a  science,  nor  are  they  the  proper 
subject  of  a  history. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  all  do  speak  of  degraded  moral 
conceptions,  of  a  perverted  conscience,  of  a  lofty  moral- 
ity, of  a  fine  sense  of  duty;  we  do  not  hesitate  to  com- 
pare, i.  e.,  to  treat  as  similar  and  yet  dissimilar,  the 
customs,  laws  and  ethical  maxims  of  different  ages  and 
of  different  races.  This  means  that  we  have  in  our 
minds  some  standard,  perhaps  consciously  formulated, 
perhaps  dimly  apprehended,  according  to  which  we  rate 
them.  The  unrefiective  man  is  in  danger  of  taking  as 
this  standard  his  own  actual  code,  such  as  it  is;  of 
accepting,  together  with  such  elements  of  reason  as  it 
may  contain,  the  whole  mass  of  his  inherited  or  acquired 
prejudices;  the  more  reflective  man  will  strive  to  be 
more  rationally  critical. 


PART  II 
ETHICS  AS   SCIENCE 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  AWAKENING  TO  REFLECTION 

13.  The  Dogmatism  of  the  Natural  Man.  —  In  morals 
and  in  politics  it  seems  natural  for  man  to  be  dogmatic, 
to  take  a  position  without  hesitation,  to  defend  it  ve- 
hemently, to  maintain  that  others  are  in  the  wrong. 

This  is  not  surprising.  We  are  born  into  a  moral  en- 
vironment as  into  an  all-embracing  atmosphere.  From 
the  cradle  to  the  grave,  we  walk  with  our  heads  in 
a  cloud  of  exhortations  and  prohibitions.  From  our 
earliest  years  we  have  been  urged  to  make  decisions 
and  to  act,  and  we  have  been  furnished  with  general 
maxims  to  guide  our  action.  When,  therefore,  we  ap- 
proach the  solution  of  a  moral  problem,  we  do  not,  as  a 
rule,  acutely  feel  our  fitness  to  solve  it,  even  though  we 
may  be  judged  quite  unfit  by  others. 

This  unruffled  confidence  in  one's  possession  of  an 
adequate  supply  of  indubitable  moral  truth  may  be  found 
in  men  who  differ  widely  in  their  degree  of  intelligence 
and  in  the  extent  of  their  information.  Some  individuals 
seem  born  to  it.  We  may  come  upon  it  in  the  ethical 
philosopher;  we  may  meet  it  in  the  man  of  science, 
who  knows  that  it  has  taken  him  a  quarter  of  a  century 
to  fit  himself  to  be  an  authority  in  matters  chemical 
or  physical,  but  who  wanders  in  his  hours  of  leisure  into 
the  field  of  ethics  and  has  no  hesitation  in  proposing 

29 


30  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

radical  reforms.  But  it  is  more  natural  to  look  for  the 
unwavering  confidence  which  knows  no  questionings 
among  persons  of  restricted  outlook,  who  have  been 
brought  into  contact  with  but  one  set  of  opinions.  It 
is  characteristic  of  the  child,  of  the  uncultivated  classes 
in  all  communities,  of  whole  communities  primitive  in 
their  culture  and  relatively  unenlightened. 

14.  The  Awakening.  —  Manifestly,  even  the  beginnings 
of  ethical  science  are  an  impossibility  where  such  a 
spirit  prevails.  Where  there  are  no  doubts,  no  question- 
ings, there  can  be  no  attempt  at  rational  construction. 

Fortunately  for  the  cause  of  human  enlightenment 
there  are  forces  at  work  which  tend  to  arouse  men  from 
this  state  of  lethargy.  Horizons  are  broadened,  new 
ideas  make  their  appearance,  there  is  a  conflict  of  author- 
ities, the  birth  of  a  doubt,  and,  finally,  a  more  or  less 
articulate  appeal  to  Reason. 

Even  a  child  is  capable  of  seeing  that  paternal  and 
maternal  injunctions  and  reactions  are  not  wholly  alike, 
and  it  sets  them  off  against  each  other.  Nor  have  all 
the  children  in  the  home  precisely  the  same  nature.  One 
is  temperamentally  frank  and  open,  but  unsympathetic; 
another  is  affectionate,  and  prone  to  lying  as  the  sparks 
fly  upward.  The  virtues  and  vices  are  not  spontaneously 
arranged  in  the  same  order  of  importance  by  children, 
and  differences  of  opinion  may  arise.  Nor  does  it  take 
the  child  long  to  discover  that  the  law  of  its  own  home 
is  not  identical  with  that  of  the  house  next  door.  At 
school  the  experience  is  repeated  on  a  larger  scale;  many 
homes  are  represented,  and,  besides  that,  two  codes  of 
law  claim  allegiance,  the  code  of  the  schoolboy  and  that 
of  the  master.    They  may  be  by  no  means  in  accord. 


THE    AWAKENING    TO    REFLECTION       31 

And  when,  in  college,  the  student  for  the  first  time 
seriously  addresses  himself  to  the  task  of  the  study  of 
ethics  as  science,  he  comes  to  it  by  no  means  wholly 
unprepared.  He  has  had  rather  a  broad  experience  of 
the  contrasts  which  obtain  between  different  codes.  He 
is  familiar  with  the  code  of  the  home,  of  the  school,  of 
the  social  class,  of  the  religious  community,  of  the  civil 
community.  There  sit  on  the  same  benches  with  him 
the  sensitively  conscientious  student  who  doubts  whether 
it  is  a  permissible  deception  of  one's  neighbor  to  apply 
a  patch  to  an  old  garment  so  skillfully  that  it  will  escape 
detection;  the  sporting  character  who  takes  it  to  be  the 
mutual  understanding  among  men  that  truth  shall  not 
be  demanded  of  those  who  deal  in  horses  and  dogs;  the 
youth  from  Texas  who  claims  that  the  French  philos- 
opher, Janet,  cannot  be  an  authority  on  morals,  since  he 
asserts  that  he  who  cheats  at  cards  must  feel  a  burning 
shame.  With  the  ethics  of  the  ancient  Hebrews,  of  the 
Greeks,  of  the  Romans,  our  young  moralist  has  had  the 
opportunity  to  acquire  some  familiarity,  and  he  can 
compare  them,  if  he  will,  with  the  Christian  ethics  of 
his  own  day.  He  knows  something  of  history  and  biogra- 
phy ;  he  has  read  books  of  travel,  and  has  some  acquaint- 
ance with  the  manners  and  customs  of  other  peoples. 
Were  he  given  to  reflection,  it  ought  not  to  surprise  him  to 
find  a  Portuguese  sea-cook  maintaining  that  it  is  wrong 
to  steal,  except  from  the  rich;  or  to  learn  that  a  Wahabee 
saint  rated  the  smoking  of  tobacco  as  the  worst  possible 
sin  next  to  idolatry,  while  maintaining  that  murder, 
robbery,  and  such  like,  were  peccadilloes  which  a  merciful 
God  might  properly  overlook. 

Material  for  reflection  he  has  in  abundance  —  and  he 


32  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

often  remains  relatively  dogmatic  and  unplagued  by 
doubt.  But  only  relatively  so;  and  only  so  long  as  the 
claims  of  conflicting  authorities  are  not  forced  upon 
his  attention,  rendered  importunate  in  the  light  of  dis- 
cussion, made  so  familiar  as  to  seem  real  and  substan- 
tial. It  is  the  tendency  of  the  widening  of  the  horizon 
to  arouse  men  to  reflection,  to  stimulate  to  criticism. 
From  such  criticism  the  science  of  ethics  has  its  birth. 

What  is  true  of  the  individual  is  true  of  men  in  the 
mass.  The  blind  life  of  social  classes  long  laid  in  chains 
by  custom  and  tradition  may  come  to  be  illuminated 
by  new  ideas,  and  passive  acquiescence  may  give  way 
to  active  participation  in  social  endeavor.  Nor  can 
primitive  peoples  remain  wholly  primitive  except  in 
isolation.  With  the  increased  intercourse  between  races 
and  peoples,  men  are  brought  to  a  clear  consciousness 
that  the  accepted  in  morals  is  manifold  and  diverse; 
the  next  step  is  to  question  whether  it  is,  in  any  given 
instance,  of  unquestionable  authority;  thus  do  men  be- 
come ripe  for  the  search  for  the  acceptable. 


CHAPTER  V 
ETHICAL  METHOD 

15.  Inductive  and  Deductive  Method.  —  Professor 
Henry  Sidgwick  has  defined  a  method  of  ethics  as  "any 
rational  procedure  by  which  we  determine  what  is  right 
for  individual  human  beings  to  do,  or  to  seek  to  realize 
by  voluntary  action."  ^ 

He  points  out  that  many  methods  are  natural  and  are 
habitually  used,  but  claims  that  only  one  can  be  rational. 
By  which  he  means  that  the  several  methods  of  determin- 
ing right  conduct  urged  by  the  different  schools  of  the 
moralists  must  be  reconciled,  or  all  but  one  must  be 
rejected.- 

In  this  chapter  I  shall  not  discuss  in  detail  the  schools 
of  the  moralists  and  the  specific  methods  which  charac- 
terize them.  I  am  here  concerned  only  with  the  general 
distinction  between  the  scientific  methods  of  deduction 
and  induction,  and  its  bearing  upon  ethical  investiga- 
tions. 

How  do  we  discover  that,  in  an  isosceles  triangle,  the 
sides  which  subtend  the  equal  angles  are  equal?  We  do 
not  go  about  collecting  the  opinions  of  individuals  upon 
the  subject,  nor  do  we  consult  the  records  of  other  peo- 
ples, past  or  present.    We  do  not  measure  a  great  number 

1  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapter  i,  §  1. 

2  Ibid.,  chapter  i,  §  3. 

33 


34  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

of  triangles  and  arrive  at  our  conclusion  after  a  calcu- 
lation of  the  probable  error  of  our  measurements.  The 
appeal  to  authorities  does  not  interest  us ;  that  measure- 
ments are  always  more  or  less  inaccurate,  and  that  all 
actual  triangles  are  more  or  less  irregular,  we  freely 
admit,  but  we  do  not  regard  such  facts  as  significant. 
We  use  a  single  triangle  as  an  illustration,  and  from  what 
is  given  in,  or  along  with,  that  individual  instance,  we 
deduce  certain  consequences  in  which  we  have  the  high- 
est confidence.  Here  we  follow  the  method  of  deduction. 
We  accept  a  "given,"  with  its  validity  we  do  not  concern 
ourselves;  our  aim  is  the  discovery  of  what  may  be 
gotten  out  of  it. 

In  the  inductive  sciences  the  individual  instance  has 
an  importance  of  quite  a  different  sort.  It  is  not  a  mere 
illustration,  unequivocally  embodying  a  general  truth 
to  which  we  may  appeal  directly,  treating  the  instance 
as  a  mere  vehicle,  in  itself  of  little  significance.  Indi- 
vidual instances  are  observed  and  compared;  uniformi- 
ties are  searched  for;  it  is  sought  to  establish  general 
truths,  not  directly  evident,  but  whose  authority  rests 
upon  the  particular  facts  that  have  been  observed  and 
classified. 

It  is  a  commonplace  of  logic  that  both  induction  and 
deduction  may  be  employed  in  many  fields  of  science. 
We  may  attain  by  inductive  inquiry  to  more  or  less 
general  truths,  which  we  no  longer  care  to  call  in  ques- 
tion, and  which  we  accept  as  a  "  given,"  to  be  exploited 
and  carried  out  in  its  consequences.  Indeed,  we  need 
not  betake  ourselves  to  science  to  have  an  illustration  of 
this  method  of  procedure.  In  everyday  life  men  have 
maxims  by  which  they  judge  of  the  probable  actions 


ETHICAL    METHOD  35 

of  their  fellow-men  and  in  the  light  of  which  they  direct 
their  dealings  with  them.  Such  maxims  as  that  men 
may  be  counted  upon  to  consult  their  own  interests  have 
certainly  not  been  adopted  independently  of  an  experi- 
ence of  what,  on  particular  occasions,  men  have  shown 
themselves  to  be.  But,  once  adopted,  they  may  be 
treated  as,  for  practical  purposes,  unciuestionable ;  men 
are  concerned  to  apply  them,  not  to  substantiate  them. 
In  so  far,  men  reason  from  them  deductively  and  pass 
from  the  general  rule  to  the  particular  instance. 

16.  The  Authority  of  the  "  Given."  —Obviously  the 
"  given,"  in  the  sense  indicated,  may  possess,  in  certain 
cases,  a  very  high  degree  of  authority,  and,  in  others,  a 
very  low  degree. 

In  the  case  of  the  mathematical  truth  referred  to  above, 
men  do  not,  in  fact,  find  it  necessary  to  call  in  question 
the  "  given,"  though  they  may  be  divided  in  their  notions 
touching  the  general  nature  of  mathematical  evidence 
and  whence  it  draws  its  apparently  indisputable  author- 
ity. In  certain  of  the  inductive  sciences,  as  in  mechanics, 
physics  and  chemistry,  generalizations  have  been  attained 
in  which  even  the  critical  repose  much  confidence.  In 
other  fields  men  are  constantly  making  general  state- 
ments which  are  promptly  contradicted  by  their  fellows, 
and  are  drawing  from  them  inferences  the  justice  of 
which  is  in  many  quarters  disallowed.  There  are  axioms 
and  axioms,  maxims  and  maxims.  The  confidence  felt 
by  a  given  individual  in  a  particular  "  given  "  does  not 
guarantee  its  acceptance  by  all  men  of  equal  intelligence. 
Where,  however,  the  evidence  upon  which  a  disputed 
"  given  "  IS  based  is  forthcoming,  there  is,  at  least,  ground 
for  rational  discussion. 


36  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

Not  a  few  famous  writers  have  treated  moral  truths 
as  analogous  to  mathematical.^  To  take  here  a  single 
instance.  Sidgwick,  in  his  truly  admirable  work  on 
"  The  Methods  of  Ethics,"  maintains  ^  that  "  the  prop- 
ositions, '  I  ought  not  to  prefer  a  present  lesser  good  to 
a  future  greater  good,'  and  '  I  ought  not  to  prefer  my 
own  lesser  good  to  the  greater  good  of  another,'  do 
present  themselves  as  self-evident;  as  much  {e.g.)  as  the 
mathematical  axiom  that  '  if  equals  be  added  to  equals 
the   wholes   are   equals.' " 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  claim  that  we  are  in  possession 
of  a  "  given  "  with  ultimate  and  indisputable  authority ; 
it  is  another  to  convince  men  that  we  really  do  possess 
it.  Locke's  efforts  at  deduction  fall  lamentably  short 
of  the  model  set  by  Euclid.  "  Professor  Sidgwick's  well- 
known  moral  axiom, '  I  ought  not  to  prefer  my  own  lesser 
good  to  the  greater  good  of  another,'  would,"  writes 
Westermarck,'"'  "  if  explained  to  a  Fuegian  or  a  Hotten- 
tot, be  regarded  by  him,  not  as  self-evident,  but  as  sim- 
ply absurd;  nor  can  it  claim  general  acceptance  even 
among  ourselves.  Who  is  that  '  Another '  to  whose 
greater  good  I  ought  not  to  prefer  my  own  lesser  good? 
A  fellow-countryman,  a  savage,  a  criminal,  a  bird,  a 
fish  —  all  without  distinction?"  To  Bcntham's  "every- 
body to  count  for  one  and  nobody  for  more  than  one  " 
may  be  opposed  Hartley's  preference  of  benevolent  and 
religious  persons  to  the  rest  of  mankind." 

The  fact  that  men  eminent  for  their  intellectual  abil- 

3  See  the  chapter  on  "  Intuitionism,"  §  90,  note, 

*  Book  III,  chapter  xiii,  §  3. 

^  Op.  cit.,  Volume  I,  chapter  i,  p.  12. 

•  Observations  on  Man,  Part  II,  chapter  iii,  6. 


ETHICAL    METHOD  37 

ity  and  for  the  breadth  of  their  information  are,  in 
morals,  inclined  to  accept,  as  ultimate,  principles  not 
identical,  and  thus  to  found  different  schools,  would 
seem  to  indicate  that,  to  one  who  aims  at  treating  ethics 
as  a  science,  principles,  as  well  as  the  deductions  from 
them,  should  be  objects  of  closest  scrutiny.  They  should 
not  be  taken  for  granted.  The  history  of  ethical  theory 
appears  to  make  it  clear  that  the  "  given  "  of  the  moral- 
ist is  not  of  the  same  nature  as  that  of  the  geometer. 
The  ethical  philosopher  cannot,  hence,  confine  himself 
to  developing  deductively  the  implications  of  some  prin- 
ciple or  principles  assumed  without  critical  examination. 
He  must  establish  the  validity  even  of  his  principles. 
This  we  should  bear  in  mind  when  we  approach  the 
study  of  the  different  ethical  schools. 


2488^7 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MATERIALS  OF  ETHICS 

17.  How  the  Moralist  Should  Proceed.  —  The  above 
reflections  on  method  suggest  the  materials  of  which 
the  moralist  should  avail  himself  in  rearing  the  edifice 
of  his  science. 

(1)  Evidently  he  should  reflect  upon  the  moral  judg- 
ments which  he  finds  in  himself,  the  moral  being  with 
whom  he  is  best  acquainted.  He  should  endeavor  to  ren- 
der consistent  and  luminous  moral  judgments  which,  as 
he  finds,  have  too  often  been  inconsistent  and  more  or  less 
blind. 

(2)  He  should  take  cognizance  of  his  own  setting  — 
of  the  social  conscience  embodied  in  the  community  in 
which  he  lives. 

(3)  And  since,  as  we  have  seen,  the  significance, 
either  of  the  individual  conscience,  or  of  the  social  con- 
science revealed  in  custom,  law  and  public  opinion,  can 
hardly  become  apparent  to  one  who  does  not  bring  within 
his  horizon  many  consciences  individual  and  social,  he 
should  enlarge  his  view  so  as  to  include  such.  The 
moralists,  in  our  day,  show  an  increasing  tendency  to 
pay  serious  attention  to  this  mass  of  materials.  They 
do  not  confine  their  attention  to  the  moral  standard 
which  this  man  or  that  has  accepted  as  authoritative  for 
him,  nor  to  that  accepted  as  authoritative  in  a  given  com- 

38 


THE    MATERIALS    OF    ETHICS  39 

munity.  They  study  man  —  man  in  all  stages  of  his 
development  and  in  material  and  social  settings  the 
most  diverse. 

(4)  Nor  should  the  student  of  ethics  overlook  the 
work  which  has  been  done  by  those  moralists  who  have 
gone  before  him.  He  who  has  studied  descriptive  anat- 
omy is  aware  of  the  immense  service  which  has  been 
done  him  by  the  unwearied  observations  of  his  predeces- 
sors; observations  which  have  been  put  on  record,  and 
which  draw  his  attention  to  numberless  details  of  struc- 
ture that  would,  without  such  aid,  certainly  escape  his 
attention.  Ethics  is  an  ancient  discipline.  It  has  fixed 
the  attention  of  acute  minds  for  many  centuries.  He 
who  approaches  the  subject  naively,  without  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  many  ethical  theories  which  have  been 
advanced  and  the  acute  criticisms  to  which  they  have 
been  subjected,  will  almost  certainly  say  what  someone 
has  said  before,  and  said,  perhaps,  much  better.  The 
valor  of  ignorance  will  involve  him  in  ignominious  defeat. 

(5)  It  is  evident  that  the  moralist  must  make  use 
of  materials  offered  him  by  workers  in  many  other  fields 
of  science.  The  biologist  may  have  valuable  sugges- 
tions to  make  touching  the  impulses  and  instincts  of  man. 
The  psychologist  treats  of  the  same,  and  exhibits  the 
work  of  the  intellect  in  ordering  and  organizing  the  im- 
pulses. He  studies  the  phenomena  of  desire,  will,  habit, 
the  formation  of  character.  The  anthropologist  and  the 
sociologist  are  concerned  with  the  codes  of  communities 
and  with  the  laws  of  social  development.  The  fields 
of  economics,  politics  and  comparative  jurisprudence 
obviously  march  with  that  cultivated  by  the  student 
of  ethics. 


40  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

18.  The  Philosopher  as  Moralist.  —  In  all  these 
sciences  at  once  it  is  not  possible  for  the  moralist  to  be 
an  adept.  The  mass  of  the  material  they  furnish  is  so 
vast  that  the  ethical  writer  who  starts  out  to  master 
it  in  all  its  details  may  well  dread  that  he  may  be  over- 
come by  senility  before  he  is  ready  to  undertake  the 
formulation  of  an  ethical  theory. 

It  does  not  follow,  however,  that  he  should  leave  to 
those  who  occupy  themselves  professionally  with  any  of 
these  fields  the  task  of  framing  a  theory  of  morals.  He 
must  have  sufficient  information  to  be  able  to  select  with 
intelligence  what  has  some  important  bearing  upon  the 
problem  of  conduct,  but  there  are  many  details  into 
which  he  need  not  go.  It  is  well  to  note  the  following 
points : 

(1)  A  multitude  of  details  may  be  illustrative  of  a 
comparatively  small  number  of  general  principles.  It 
is  with  these  general  principles  that  the  moralist  is 
concerned.  The  anthropologist  may  regard  it  as  his 
duty  to  spend  much  labor  in  the  attempt  to  discover 
why  this  or  that  act,  this  or  that  article  of  food,  happens 
in  a  given  community  to  be  taboo  to  certain  persons. 
The  student  of  ethics  is  not  bound  to  take  up  the  de- 
tailed investigation  of  such  matters.  Human  nature,  in 
its  general  constitution,  is  much  the  same  in  different 
races  and  peoples.  The  influence  of  environment  is  every- 
where apparent.  There  are  significant  uniformities  to 
be  discovered  even  by  one  who  has  a  limited  amount  of 
detailed  information.  "  Those  who  come  after  us  will 
see  nothing  new,"  said  Antoninus,  ''  nor  have  those  be- 
fore us  seen  anything  more,  but  in  a  manner  he  who  is 
forty  years  old,  if  he  has  any  understanding  at  all,  has 


THE    MATERIALS    OF    ETHICS  41 

seen  by  virtue  of  the  uniformity  which  prevails  all  things 
which  have  been  and  all  that  will  be."  ^  Which  is,  to  be 
sure,  an  overstatement  of  the  case,  but  one  containing  a 
germ  of  truth. 

(2)  We  find,  by  looking  into  their  books,  that  men 
most  intimately  acquainted  with  the  facts  of  the  moral 
life  as  revealed  in  different  races  and  peoples  may  differ 
widely  in  the  ethical  doctrine  which  they  are  inclined 
to  base  upon  them.  Not  all  men,  even  when  endowed  with 
no  little  learning,  are  gifted  with  the  clearness  of  vision 
which  can  detect  the  significance  of  given  facts;  nor  are 
all  equally  capable  of  weaving  relevant  facts  into  a  con- 
sistent and  reasonable  theory.  The  keenness  and  the 
constructive  genius  of  the  individual  count  for  much. 
And  breadth  of  view  counts  for  much  also.  We  have 
seen  that  ethics  touches  many  fields  of  investigation,  and 
the  philosopher  is  supposed,  at  least,  to  let  his  vision 
range  over  a  broad  realm,  and  to  grasp  the  relations  of 
the  different  sciences  to  each  other.  He  is,  moreover, 
supposed  to  be  trained  in  reflective  analysis,  and  of  this 
ethical  theory  appears  to  stand  in  no  little  need. 

(3)  Finally,  the  mere  fact  that  ethics  has  for  so 
many  centuries  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  disciplines 
falling  within  the  domain  of  the  philosopher  is  not  with- 
out its  significance.  One  may  deplore  the  tendency  to 
base  ethics  upon  this  or  that  metaphysical  doctrine,  and 
desire  to  see  it  made  an  independent  science;  and  yet 
one  may  be  compelled  to  admit  that  it  is  not  easy  to 
comprehend  and  to  estimate  the  value  of  many  of  the 
ethical  theories  which  have  been  evolved  in  the  past, 

1  Thoughts,  XI,  1.  London,  1891,  translated  by  George  Long. 


42  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

without  having  rather  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  history  of  philosophy.  The  ethical  teachings  of  Plato, 
of  Aristotle,  of  St.  Thomas,  of  Kant,  of  Hegel,  of  Green, 
lose  much  of  their  meaning  when  taken  out  of  their 
setting.  The  history  of  ethical  theory  is  blind  when 
divorced  from  the  history  of  philosophy,  and  with  the 
history  of  ethical  theory  the  moralist  should  be  ac- 
quainted. 

The  philosopher  has  no  prescriptive  right  to  preempt 
the  field  of  ethics.  Many  men  may  cultivate  it  with 
profit.  Nevertheless,  he,  too,  should  cultivate  it,  not 
independently  and  with  a  disregard  of  what  has  been 
done  by  others,  but  in  a  spirit  of  hearty  cooperation, 
thankfully  accepting  such  help  as  is  offered  him  by 
his  neighbors. 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  AIM  OF  ETHICS   AS   SCIENCE 

19.  The  Appeal  to  Reason.  —  The  proper  aim  of  the 
scientific  study  of  ethics  appears  to  be  suggested  with 
sufficient  clearness  by  what  has  been  said  in  the  chapters 
on  the  accepted  content  of  morals. 

Where  individuals  take  up  unreflectively  the  maxims 
which  are  to  control  their  conduct,  human  life  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  be  under  the  guidance  of  reason. 
Where,  moreover,  the  codes  of  individuals  clash  with 
each  other  or  with  the  social  conscience  of  their  com- 
munity, and  where  the  codes  of  different  communities 
are  disconcertingly  diverse,  planful  concerted  action  with 
a  view  to  the  control  of  conduct  appears  to  be  imprac- 
ticable. Historical  accident,  blind  impulse  and  caprice, 
cannot  serve  as  guides  for  a  rational  creature  seeking 
to  live,  along  with  others,  a  rational  life. 

"  The  aim  of  ethics,"  says  Sidgwick/  "  is  to  render 
scientific  —  i.e.,  true,  and  as  far  as  possible  systematic 
—  the  apparent  cognitions  that  most  men  have  of  the 
rightness  or  reasonableness  of  conduct,  whether  the  con- 
duct be  considered  as  right  in  itself,  or  as  the  means 
to  some  end  conceived  as  ultimately  reasonable."  The 
use  here  of  the  word  "  cognitions  "  calls  our  attention 
to  the  fact  that,  when  men  say,  "  this  is  right,  that  is 

1  The  Methods  oj  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapter  vi,  §  1. 

43 


44  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

wrong,"  they  mean  no  more  than,  "  this  I  like,  that 
I  do  not  like";  and  the  use  of  the  word  **  apparent " 
indicates  that  the  judgments  expressed  may  be  approved 
by  the  man  who  makes  them,  and  yet  be  erroneous.  The 
appeal  is  to  an  objective  standard;  there  is  a  demand 
for  proof. 

That  most  men  recognize,  in  some  cases  dimly,  in  some 
cases  clearly  and  explicitly,  that  the  appeal  to  such  a 
standard  is  justifiable,  can  scarcely  be  denied.  Between 
"  I  choose  "  and  "  I  ought  to  choose,"  between  "  the 
community  demands,"  and  "  the  community  ought  to 
demand,"  men  generally  recognize  a  distinction  when 
they  have  attained  to  a  capacity  for  reflection. 

It  has,  however,  been  denied  that  the  appeal  is  justi- 
fiable, and  denied  by  no  mean  authority.  "  The  pre- 
sumed objectivity  of  moral  judgments,"  writes  Wester- 
marck,"  "  being  a  chimera,  there  can  be  no  moral  truth 
in  the  sense  in  which  this  term  is  generally  understood. 
The  ultimate  reason  for  this  is,  that  the  moral  concepts 
are  based  upon  emotions,  and  that  the  contents  of  an 
emotion  fall  entirely  outside  the  category  of  truth.  But 
it  may  be  true  or  not  that  we  have  a  certain  emotion, 
it  may  be  true  or  not  that  a  given  mode  of  conduct 
has  a  tendency  to  evoke  in  us  moral  indignation  or 
moral  approval.  Hence  a  moral  judgment  is  true  or 
false  according  as  its  subject  has  or  has  not  that  ten- 
dency which  the  predicate  attributes  to  it.  If  I  say 
that  it  is  wrong  to  resist  evil,  and  yet  resistance  to  evil 
has  no  tendency  whatever  to  call  forth  in  me  an  emotion 

2  The  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas,  chapter  i, 
p.  17. 


AIM    OF    ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE  45 

of  moral  disapproval,  then  my  judgment  is  false."  The 
conclusion  drawn  from  this  is  that  there  are  no  general 
moral  truths,  and  that  "  the  object  of  scientific  ethics 
cannot  be  to  fix  rules  for  human  conduct";  it  can  only 
be  "  to  study  the  moral  consciousness  as  a  fact." 

20.  The  Appeal  to  Reason  Justified.  —  The  words  of 
so  high  an  authority  should  not  be  passed  over  lightly. 
One  is  impelled  to  seek  for  their  proper  appreciation 
and  their  reconciliation  with  the  judgment  of  other  moral- 
ists. Such  can  be  found,  I  think,  by  turning  to  two  truths 
dwelt  upon  in  what  has  preceded:  the  truth  that  the 
moralist  should  not  assume  that  he  is  possessed  of  a 
"  given  "  analogous  to  that  of  the  geometer  —  a  standard 
in  no  need  of  criticism;  and  the  equally  important  truth 
that  the  moralist  cannot  hope  to  frame  a  code  which  will 
simply  replace  the  codes  of  individual  communities  and 
will  prescribe  the  details  of  human  conduct  while  ig- 
noring such  codes  altogether. 

But  it  does  not  seem  to  follow  that,  because  the 
moralist  may  not  set  up  an  arbitrary  code  of  this  sort, 
he  is  also  forbidden  to  criticize  and  compare  moral 
judgments,  to  arrange  existing  codes  in  a  certain  order 
as  lower  and  higher,  to  frame  some  notion  of  what  con- 
stitutes progress.  He  may  hold  before  himself,  in  out- 
line, at  least,  an  ideal  of  conduct,  and  not  one  taken 
up  arbitrarily  but  based  upon  the  phenomena  of  the 
moral  consciousness  as  he  has  observed  them.  And  in 
the  light  of  this  ideal  he  may  judge  of  conduct;  his 
appeal  is  to  an  objective  standard. 

Thus,  he  who  says  that  it  is  false  that  it  is  right  to 
reduce  to  slavery  prisoners  taken  in  war  may,  if  he  be 
sufiiciently  unreflective,  have  no  better  reason  for  his 


46  ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE 

judgment  than  a  feeling  of  repugnance  to  such  con- 
duct. But,  if  he  has  risen  to  the  point  of  taking  broad 
views  of  men  and  their  moral  codes,  he  may  very  well 
assert  the  falsity  of  the  statement  even  when  he  feels 
no  personal  repugnance  to  the  holding  of  certain  persons 
as  slaves.  His  appeal  is,  in  fact,  to  such  a  standard  as 
is  above  indicated,  and  his  condemnation  of  certain  forms 
of  conduct  is  based  upon  their  incompatibility  with  it. 
Hence,  a  man  may  significantly  assert  that  certain  con- 
duct is  objectively  desirable,  although  it  may  not  be 
desired  by  himself  or  by  his  community.  He  may  judge 
a  thing  to  be  wrong  without  feeling  it  to  be  wrong. 
Whether  anything  would  actually  be  judged  to  be  wrong, 
if  no  one  ever  had  any  emotions,  is  a  different  question. 
With  it  we  may  class  the  question  whether  anything 
would  be  judged  to  be  wrong  if  no  one  were  possessed  of 
even  a  spark  of  reason.  There  is  small  choice  between 
having  nothing  to  see  and  not  being  able  to  see  anything.^ 

3  That,  in  the  citation  above  given,  Westermarck's  attention 
was  concentrated  upon  the  extreme  position  taken  by  some 
morahsts  touching  the  function  of  the  reason  in  moral  judg- 
ments seems  to  me  evident.  He  is  far  too  able  an  observer  to 
overlook  the  significance  of  the  diversity  of  moral  codes  and 
the  meaning  of  progress.  He  writes:  "Though  rooted  in  the 
emotional  side  of  our  nature,  our  moral  opinions  are  in  a  large 
measure  amenable  to  reason.  Now  in  every  society  the  tradi- 
tional notions  as  to  what  is  good  or  bad,  obligatory  or  indifferent, 
are  commonly  accepted  by  the  majority  of  people  without  further 
reflection.  By  tracing  them  to  their  source  it  will  be  found  that 
not  a  few  of  these  notions  have  their  origin  in  sentimental  hkings 
and  antipathies,  to  which  a  scrutinizing  and  enlightened  judge 
can  attach  little  importance;  whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  he  must 
account  blamablc  many  an  act  and  omission  which  public 
opinion,  out  of  thoiightlcssness,  treats  with  indifference."  Vol.  I, 
pp.  2-3.    See  also  his  appeals  to  reason  where  it  is  a  question  of 


AIM    OF    ETHICS    AS    SCIENCE  47 

An  appeal,  thus,  from  the  actual  to  the  ideal  appears 
to  be  possible.  And,  since  the  natural  man,  unenlight- 
ened and  unreflective,  is  not  more  inclined  to  show  him- 
self to  be  a  reasonable  being  in  the  sphere  of  morals  than 
elsewhere,  it  seems  that  there  is  no  little  need  of  ethical 
science.  Its  aim  is  to  bring  about  the  needed  enlight- 
enment. Its  value  can  only  be  logically  denied  by 
those  who  maintain  seriously  that  it  is  easy  to  know 
what  it  is  right  to  do.  Do  men  really  hold  this,  if 
they  are  thoughtful? 


the  attitude  of  the  community  toward  legal  responsibilit\'  on 
the  part  of  the  j'oung,  toward  drunkenness,  and  toward  the 
heedless  production  of  offspring  doomed  to  misery  and  disease, 
pp.  269  and  310. 


PART  III 
JNIAN  AND  HIS  EXVIRONMENT 


CHAPTER  VIII 
MAN'S    NATURE 

21.  The  Background  of  Actions.  —  In  estimating 
human  actions  we  take  into  consideration  both  the  doer 
and  the  circumstances  under  which  the  deed  was  done. 
Action^  may  be  desirable  or  undesirable,  good  or  bad,  ac- 
cording to  their  setting.  How  shall  we  judge  of  the 
blow  that  takes  away  human  life?  It  may  be  the  invol- 
untary reaction  of  a  man  startled  by  a  shock;  it  may 
be  a  motion  of  justifiable  self-defence;  it  may  be  one 
struck  at  the  command  of  a  superior  and  in  the  defence 
of  one's  country;  it  may  be  the  horrid  outcome  of  cruel 
rapacity  or  base  malevolence. 

Nor  are  the  emotions,  torn  out  of  their  context,  more 
significant  than  actions  without  a  background.  They 
are  mental  phenomena  to  be  observed  and  described  by 
the  psychologist;  to  the  moralist  they  are,  taken  alone, 
as  unmeaning  as  the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  but,  like 
them,  capable  in  combination  of  carrying  many  mean- 
ings. Anger,  fear,  wonder,  and  all  the  rest  are,  as 
natural  emotions,  neither  good  nor  bad;  they  are  colors, 
which  may  enter  into  a  picture  and  in  it  acquire  vari- 
ous values. 

In  morals,  when  men  have  attained  to  the  stage  of 
enlightenment  at  which  moral  estimation  is  a  possible 
process,  they  always  consider  emotions,  intentions,  and 

51 


52  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

actions  in  the  light  of  their  background.  We  do  not 
demand  a  moral  life  of  the  brutes;  we  do  not  look  for 
it  in  the  intellectually  defective  and  the  emotionally- 
insane;  nor  do  we  expect  a  savage  caught  in  the  bush 
to  harbor  the  same  emotions,  or  to  have  the  same  ethical 
outlook,  as  the  missionary  with  whom  we  m.ay  confront 
him.  The  concepts  of  moral  responsibility,  of  desert,  of 
guilt,  are  emptied  of  all  significance,  when  we  lose  sight 
of  the  nature,  inborn  or  acquired,  of  the  creature  haled 
before  the  bar  of  our  judgment,  and  of  the  environment, 
which  on  the  one  hand,  impels  him  to  action,  and,  on 
the  other,  furnishes  the  stage  upon  which  the  drama  of 
his  life  must  be  played  out  to  the  end. 

Hence,  he  who  would  not  act  as  the  creature  of  blind 
unpulse  or  as  the  unthinking  slave  of  tradition,  but 
would  exercise  a  conscious  and  intelligent  control  over 
his  conduct,  seems  compelled  to  look  at  his  life  and 
its  setting  in  a  broad  way,  to  scrutinize  with  care  both 
the  nature  of  man  and  the  environment  without  which 
that  nature  could  find  no  expression.  When  he  does 
this,  he  only  does  more  intelligently  what  men  generally 
do  instinctively  and  somewhat  at  haphazard.  He  seeks 
a  rational  estimate  of  the  significance  of  conduct,  and 
a  standard  by  which  it  may  be  measured. 

22.  Man's  Nature.  —  Moralists  ancient  and  modern 
have  had  a  good  deal  to  say  about  the  nature  of  man. 
To  some  of  them  it  has  seemed  rather  a  simple  thing 
to  describe  it.  Its  constitution,  as  they  have  conceived 
it,  has  furnished  them  with  certain  principles  which 
should  guide  human  action.  Aristotle,  who  assumed 
that  every  man  seeks  his  own  good,  conceived  of  his 
good  or  "  well-being  "  as  largely  identical  with  "  well- 


MAN'S    NATURE  53 

doing."  This  "  well-doing  "  meant  to  him  "  fulfilling 
the  proper  functions  of  man,"  or  in  other  words  act- 
ing as  the  nature  of  man  prescribes.^  To  the  Stoic 
man's  duty  was  action  in  accordance  with  his  nature.^ 
Butler,^  many  centuries  later,  found  in  man's  nature  a 
certain  "  constitution,"  with  conscience  naturally  su- 
preme and  the  passions  in  a  position  of  subordination. 
This  "  constitution  "  plainh^  indicated  to  him  the  con- 
duct appropriate  to  a  human  being. 

Such  appeals  to  man's  nature  we  are  apt  to  listen  to 
with  a  good  deal  of  sympathy.  Manifestly,  man  dif- 
fers from  the  brutes,  and  they  differ,  in  their  kind,  from 
each  other.  To  each  kind,  a  life  of  a  certain  sort  seems 
appropriate.  The  rational  being  is  expected  to  act  ration- 
ally, to  some  degree,  at  least.  In  our  dealings  with 
creatures  on  a  lower  plane,  we  pitch  our  expectations 
much  lower. 

And  the  behavior  we  expect  from  each  is  that  appropri- 
ate to  its  kind.  The  bee  and  the  ant  follow  unswerv- 
ingly their  own  law,  and  live  their  own  complicated 
community  life.  However  the  behavior  of  the  brute 
may  vary  in  the  presence  of  varying  conditions,  the 
degree  of  the  variation  seems  to  be  determined  by  rather 
narrow  limits.  These  we  recognize  as  the  limits  of 
the  nature  of  the  creature.  It  dictates  to  itself,  uncon- 
sciously, its  own  law  of  action,  and  it  follows  that  law 
simply  and  without  revolt. 

When  we  turn  to  man,  "  the  crown  and  glory  of  the 
universe,"  as  Darwin  calls  him,  w^e  find  him,  too,  en- 

1  Politics,  i,  2.    See,  further,  on  Man's  Nature^  chapter  xxvi. 

2  Marcus  Aurelivs,  Thoughts,  v,  1. 
^  Sermons  on  Human  Nature,  ii. 


54  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

dowed  with  a  certain  nature  in  an  analogous  sense  of  the 
word.  He  has  capacities  for  which  we  look  in  vain 
elsewhere.  The  type  of  conduct  we  expect  of  him  has 
its  root  in  these  capacities.  Human  nature  can  definitely 
be  expected  to  express  itself  in  a  human  life, —  one  lower 
or  higher,  but,  in  every  case,  distinguishable  from  the 
life  of  the  brute.  It  means  something  to  speak  of  the 
physical  and  mental  constitution  of  man,  that  mysteri- 
ous reservoir  from  which  his  emotions  and  actions  are 
supposed  to  flow.  We  feel  that  we  have  a  right  to  use 
the  expression,  even  while  admitting  that  the  brain 
of  man  is,  as  far  as  psychology  is  concerned,  almost 
unexplored  territory,  and  that  the  relation  of  mind  to 
brain  is,  and  is  long  likely  to  remain,  a  subject  of  dis- 
pute with  philosophers  and  psychologists. 

23.  How  Discover  Man's  Nature?  —  Nevertheless,  in 
speaking  of  the  nature  of  any  living  creature,  we  are 
forced  to  remind  ourselves  that  the  original  endowment 
of  the  creature  studied  can  never  be  isolated  and  sub- 
jected to  inspection  independently  of  the  setting  in  which 
the  subject  of  our  study  is  found.  Who,  by  an  exami- 
nation of  the  brain  of  a  bee  or  of  an  ant,  could  foresee 
the  intricate  organized  industry  of  the  hive  or  the  ant- 
hill? The  seven  ages  of  man  are  not  stored  ready-made 
in  the  little  body  of  the  infant.  At  any  rate,  they  are 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  most  penetrating  vision.  In 
the  case  of  the  simple  mechanisms  which  can  be  con- 
structed by  man  a  forecast  of  future  function  is  possible 
on  the  basis  of  a  general  knowledge  of  mechanics.  But 
there  is  no  living  being  of  whose  internal  constitution 
we  have  a  similar  knowledge.  From  the  behavior  of 
the  creature  we  gather  a  knowledge  of  its  nature;  we 


MAN'S    NATURE  55 

do  not  start  with  its  nature  as  directly  revealed  and 
infer  its  behavior.  That  there  are  differences  in  the 
internal  constitution  of  beings  which  react  to  the  same 
environment  in  different  ways,  we  have  every  reason 
to  believe.  What  those  differences  are  in  detail  we 
cannot  know.  And  our  knowledge  of  the  capacities 
inherent  in  this  or  that  constitution  will  be  limited  by 
what  we  can  observe  of  its  reaction  to  environment. 

Sometimes  the  reaction  to  environment  is  relatively 
simple  and  uniform.  In  this  case  we  feel  that  we  can 
attain  without  great  difficulty  to  what  may  be  regarded 
as  a  satisfactory  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  crea- 
ture studied.  The  conception  of  that  nature  appears 
to  be  rather  definite  and  unequivocal.  "When  it  is  once 
attained,  we  speak  with  some  assurance  of  the  way  in 
which  the  creature  will  act  in  this  situation  or  in  that. 
If,  however,  the  capacities  are  vastty  more  ample,  and 
the  environment  to  which  this  creature  is  adjusted  is 
greatly  extended,  the  difficult}^  of  describing  in  any 
unequivocal  way  the  nature  of  the  creature  becomes 
indefinitely  greater. 

Is  it  possible  to  contemplate  man  without  being  struck 
with  the  breadth  and  depth  of  the  gulf  which  separates 
the  primitive  human  being  from  the  finished  product  of 
civilization?  What  a  difference  in  range  of  emotion,  in 
reach  of  intellect,  in  stored  information,  in  freedom  of 
action,  between  man  at  his  lowest  and  man  at  his  high- 
est !  Can  we  describe  in  the  same  terms  what  is  natural 
to  man  everywhere  and  always? 

For  the  filthy  and  ignorant  savage,  absorbed  in  satis- 
fying his  immediate  bodily  needs,  standing  in  the  sim- 
plest of  social  relations,  taking  literally  no  thought  for 


56  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

the  morrow,  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  world  in  which 
he  finds  himself,  possessing  over  nature  no  control  worthy 
of  the  name,  the  sport  and  slave  of  his  environment,  it  is 
natural  to  act  in  one  way.  For  enlightened  humanity, 
acquainted  with  the  past  and  forecasting  the  future,  de- 
veloped in  intellect  and  refined  in  feeling,  rich  in  the 
possession  of  arts  and  sciences,  intelligently  controlling 
and  directing  the  forces  of  nature,  socially  organized  in 
highly  complicated  ways,  it  is  natural  to  act  in  another 
way.  And  to  each  of  the  intermediate  stages  in  the  evo- 
lution of  civilization  some  type  of  conduct  appears  to 
be  appropriate  and  natural. 

Whither,  then,  shall  we  turn  for  our  conception  of 
man's  nature?  Shall  we  merely  draw  up  a  list  of  the 
instincts  and  impulses  which  may  be  observable  in  all 
men?  Shall  we  say  no  more  than  that  man  is  gifted 
with  an  intelligence  superior  to  that  of  the  brutes?  To 
do  this  is,  to  be  sure,  to  give  some  vague  indication  of 
man's  original  endowment.  But  it  can  give  us  little  indi- 
cation of  what  it  is  possible  for  man,  with  such  an  en- 
dowment, and  in  such  an  environment  as  makes  his 
setting,  to  become.    And  what  man  becomes,  that  he  is. 

If  man's  nature  can  be  revealed  only  through  the 
development  of  his  capacities,  it  is  futile  to  seek  it  in  a 
return  to  undeveloped  man.  The  nature  of  the  chicken 
is  not  best  revealed  in  the  egg.  And,  as  man  can  develop 
only  in  interaction  with  his  environment,  we  must,  to 
understand  him,  study  his  environment  also. 


CHAPTER  IX 
MAN'S  MATERIAL  ENVIRONMENT 

24.  The  Struggle  with  Nature.  —  It  is  not  possible  to 
disentangle  from  each  other  and  to  consider  quite  sep- 
arately the  diverse  elements  which  enter  into  the  en- 
vironment of  man  and  which  influence  his  development. 
His  environment  is  two-fold,  material  and  social;  but 
his  material  setting  may  affect  his  social  relations,  and 
it  is  social  man,  not  the  individual  as  such,  that  achieves 
a  conquest  over  nature.  However,  it  is  possible,  and 
it  is  convenient,  to  direct  attention  successively  upon 
the  one  and  the  other  aspect  of  his  environment. 

At  every  stage  of  his  development,  man  must  have 
food,  shelter,  some  means  of  defense.  If  they  are  not 
easily  obtainable,  he  must  strain  every  nerve  to  attain 
them.  Are  his  powers  feeble  and  his  intelligence  unde- 
veloped, it  may  tax  all  his  efforts  to  keep  himself  alive 
and  to  continue  the  race  in  any  fashion.  The  rules 
which  determine  his  conduct  seem  rather  the  dictates 
of  a  stern  necessity  than  the  products  of  anything  re- 
sembling free  choice. 

He  who  is  lashed  by  hunger  and  liaunted  by  fear, 
who  cannot  provide  for  the  remote  future,  but  must 
accept  good  or  ill  fortune  as  the  accident  of  the  day 
precipitates  his  lot  upon  him,  lives  and  must  live  a 
life  at  but  one  remove  from  that  of  the  brute.    In  such  a 

57 


58  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

life  the  instincts  of  man  attain  to  a  certain  expression, 
but  intelligence  plays  a  feeble  part.  The  man  remains 
a  slave,  under  dictation,  and  moved  by  the  dread  of 
immediate  disaster.  For  an  interest  in  what  is  remote 
in  time  and  place,  for  the  extension  of  knowledge  for 
its  own  sake,  for  the  development  of  activities  which 
have  no  direct  bearing  upon  the  problem  of  keeping  him 
alive  and  fed,  there  can  be  little  place.  One  must  be 
assured  that  one  can  live,  and  live  in  reasonable  security 
and  physical  well-being,  before  the  problem  of  enriching 
and  embellishing  life  can  fairly  present  itself  as  an 
important  problem.  One  must  be  set  free  before  one 
can  deliberately  set  out  to  shape  one's  life  after  an 
ideal. 

Not  that  a  severe  struggle  with  physical  nature  is 
necessarily  and  of  itself  a  curse.  It  may  call  out  man's 
powers,  stimulate  to  action,  and  result  in  growth  and 
development.  Where  a  prodigal  nature  amply  provides 
for  man's  bodily  necessities  without  much  effort  on  his 
part,  the  result  may  be,  in  the  absence  of  other  stimu- 
lating influences  giving  rise  to  new  wants,  a  paralyzing 
sloth  fulness,  an  animal  passivity  and  content.  This 
may  be  observed  in  whole  peoples  highly  favored  by 
soil  and  climate,  and  protected  by  their  situation  from 
external  dangers.  It  may  be  observed  in  certain  favored 
classes  even  in  communities  which,  by  long  and  strenu- 
ous effort,  have  conquered  nature  and  raised  themselves 
high  in  the  scale  of  civilization.  The  idle  sons  of  the 
rich,  relieved  from  the  spur  of  necessity,  may  undergo 
the  degeneration  appropriate  to  parasitic  life.  In  the 
midst  of  a  strenuous  activity  adapted  to  call  out  the  best 
intellectual  and  moral  powers  of  man,  they  may  remain 


MAX'S    MATERIAL    ENVIRONMENT       59 

unaffected  by  it,  incapable  of  effort,  unintelligent,  sloth- 
ful, the  weak  and  passive  recipients  of  what  is  brought 
to  them  by  the  labor  of  others. 

But  the  struggle  with  physical  nature,  sometimes  a 
spur  to  progress  and  issuing  in  triumph,  may  also  issue 
in  defeat.  Nature  may  be  too  strong  for  man,  or,  at 
least,  for  man  at  an  early  stage  of  his  development.  She 
may  thwart  his  efforts  and  dwarf  his  life.  It  was  through 
no  accident  that  the  Athenian  state  rose  and  flourished 
upon  the  shores  of  the  Aegean;  no  such  efflorescence  of 
civilization  could  be  looked  for  among  the  Esquimaux 
of  the  frozen  North. 

25.  The  Conquests  of  the  Mind.  —  Physical  environ- 
ment counts  for  much,  but  the  physical  environment 
of  man  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  creatures  below  him 
who  seem  incapable  of  progress.  It  is  as  an  intelligent 
being  that  he  succeeds  in  bringing  about  ever  new  and 
more  complicated  adjustments  to  his  environment. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  his  animal  life  in  many 
respects  inferior  to  other  creatures  —  less  strong,  less 
swift,  less  adequately  provided  with  natural  means  of 
defense,  less  protected  by  nature  against  cold,  heat  and 
the  inclemencies  of  the  weather,  endowed  with  instincts 
less  unerring,  less  prolific,  through  a  long  period  of  in- 
fancy helpless  and  dependent  —  man  nevertheless  sur- 
vives and  prospers. 

He  has  conquered  the  strong,  overtaken  the  swift, 
called  upon  his  ingenuity  to  furnish  him  with  means  of 
defence.  He  has  defied  cold  and  heat,  and  we  find  him, 
with  appliances  of  his  own  devising,  successfully  com- 
bating the  rigors  of  Arctic  frosts  and  the  torrid  sun 
of  the  tropics.     Intelligence  has  supplemented  instinct 


60  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

and  has  guaranteed  the  survival  of  the  individual  and 
of  the  race. 

It  has  even  protected  man  against  himself,  against 
the  very  dangers  arising  out  of  his  immunity  from  other 
dangers.  A  gregarious  creature,  increasing  and  multi- 
plying, he  would  be  threatened  with  starvation  did  not 
his  intelligent  control  over  nature  furnish  him  with  a 
food-supply  which  makes  it  possible  for  vast  numbers 
of  human  beings  to  live  and  thrive  on  a  territory  of 
limited  extent.  Moreover,  he  has  compassed  those  com- 
plicated forms  of  social  organization  which  reveal  them- 
selves in  cities  and  states,  solving  problems  of  production, 
transportation  and  distribution  before  which  undeveloped 
man  would  stand  helpless. 

And  from  the  problem  of  living  at  all  he  has  passed 
to  that  of  living  well.  He  has  created  new  wants  and 
has  satisfied  them.  He  has  built  up  for  himself  a  rich 
and  diversified  life,  many  of  the  activities  of  which  ap- 
pear to  have  the  remotest  of  bearings  upon  the  mere 
struggle  for  existence,  but  the  exercise  of  which  gives  him 
satisfaction.  Thus,  the  primitive  instinct  of  curiosity, 
once  relatively  aimless  and  insignificant,  has  developed 
into  the  passion  for  systematic  knowledge  and  the  persist- 
ent search  for  truth;  the  rudimentary  aesthetic  feeling 
which  is  revealed  in  primitive  man,  and  traces  of  which  are 
recognizable  in  creatures  far  lower  in  the  scale,  has 
blossomed  out  in  those  elaborate  creations,  which,  at  an 
enormous  expense  of  labor  and  ingenuity,  have  come  to 
enrich  the  domains  of  literature,  music,  painting,  sculp- 
ture, architecture.  Civilized  man  is  to  a  great  extent 
occupied  with  the  production  of  what  he  does  not  need, 
if  need  be  measured  by  what  his  wants  are  at  a  lower 


MAN'S    MATERIAL    ENVIRONMENT       61 

stage  of  his  development.  But  these  same  things  he 
needs  imperatively,  if  we  measure  his  need  by  his  desires 
when  they  have  be^n  multiplied  and  their  scope  indefi- 
nitely widened. 

26.  The  Conquest  of  Nature  and  the  Well-being  of 
Man.  —  It  is  evident  that  the  successful  exploitation  of 
the  resources  of  material  nature  is  of  enormous  signifi- 
cance to  the  life  of  man.  It  may  bring  emancipation; 
it  offers  opportunity.  One  is  tempted  to  affirm,  without 
stopping  to  reflect,  that  the  development  of  the  arts  and 
sciences,  the  increase  of  wealth  and  of  knowledge,  must 
in  the  nature  of  things  increase  human  happiness. 

One  is  tempted,  further,  to  maintain  that  an  advance 
in  civilization  must  imply  an  advance  in  moralization. 
Man  has  'a  moral  nature  which  exhibits  itself  to  some 
degree  at  every  stage  of  his  development.  What  more 
natural  to  conclude  than  that,  wdth  the  progressive  un- 
folding of  his  intelligence,  with  increase  in  knowledge, 
with  some  relaxation  of  the  struggle  for  existence  which 
pits  man  against  his  fellow-man,  and  subordinates  all 
other  considerations  to  the  inexorable  law  of  self-pres- 
ervation, his  moral  nature  would  have  the  opportunity  to 
show  itself  in  a  fuller  measure? 

When  we  compare  man  at  his  very  lowest  with  man 
at  his  highest  such  judgments  appear  to  be  justified. 
But  man  is  to  be  found  at  all  sorts  of  intermediate  stages. 

His  knowledge  may  be  limited,  the  development  of  the 
arts  not  far  advanced,  his  control  over  nature  far  from 
complete,  and  yet  he  may  live  in  comparative  security 
and  with  such  wants  as  he  has  reasonably  well  satisfied. 
His  competition  with  his  fellows  may  not  be  bitter  and 
absorbing.    The  simple  life  is  not  necessarily  an  unhappy 


62  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

life,  if  the  simplicity  which  characterizes  it  be  not  too 
extreme.  In  judging  broadly  of  the  significance  for 
human  life  of  the  control  over  nature  which  is  implied 
in  the  advance  of  civilization,  one  must  take  into  con- 
sideration several  points  of  capital  importance: 

(1)  The  multiplication  of  man's  wants  results,  not  in 
happiness,  but  in  unhappiness,  unless  the  satisfaction 
of  those  wants  can  be  adequately  provided  for. 

(2)  The  effort  to  satisfy  the  new  wants  which  have 
been  called  into  being  may  be  accompanied  by  an  enor- 
mous expenditure  of  effort.  Where  the  effort  is  excessive 
man  becomes  again  the  slave  of  his  environment.  His 
task  is  set  for  him,  and  he  fulfills  it  under  the  lash  of 
an  imperious  necessity.  The  higher  standard  may  be- 
come as  inexorable  a  task-master  as  was  the*  lower. 

(3)  It  does  not  follow  that,  because  a  given  commu- 
nity is  set  free  from  the  bondage  of  the  daily  anxiety 
touching  the  problem  of  living  at  all,  and  may  address 
itself  deliberately  to  the  problem  of  living  well,  it  will 
necessarily  take  up  into  its  ideal  of  what  constitutes 
living  well  all  those  goods  upon  which  developed  man  is 
apt  to  set  a  value.  A  civilization  may  be  a  grossly 
material  one,  even  when  endowed  with  no  little  wealth. 
With  wealth  comes  the  opportunity  for  the  development 
of  the  arts  which  embellish  life,  but  that  opportunity 
may  not  be  embraced.  Man  may  be  materially  rich  and 
spiritually  poor;  he  may  allow  some  of  his  faculties  to  lie 
dormant,  and  may  lose  the  enjoyments  which  would  have 
been  his  had  they  been  developed.  The  Athenian  citi- 
zen two  millenniums  ago  had  no  such  mastery  over  the 
forces  of  nature  as  we  possess  today.  Nevertheless,  he 
was  enabled  to  live  a  many-sided  life  beside  which  the 


MAN'S    MATERIAL    ENVIROXMEXT      63 

life  of  the  modern  man  may  appear  poor  and  bare.  It 
is  by  no  means  self-evident  that  the  good  of  man  consists 
in  the  multitude  of  the  material  things  which  he  can 
compel  to  his  service. 

(4)  Moreover,  it  does  not  follow  that,  because  the 
sum  of  man's  activities,  his  behavior,  broadly  taken,  is 
vastly  altered  by  an  increase  in  his  control  over  his 
material  environment,  the  result  is  an  advance  in  moral- 
ization.  An  advance  in  civilization  —  in  knowledge,  in 
the  control  over  nature's  resources,  in  the  evolution  of 
the  industrial  and  even  of  the  fine  arts  —  does  not  nec- 
essarily imply  a  corresponding  ethical  advance  on  the 
part  of  a  given  community.  New  conditions,  brought 
about  by  an  increase  of  knowledge,  of  wealth,  of  power, 
may  result  in  ethical  degeneration. 

What  constitutes  the  moral  in  human  behavior,  what 
marks  out  right  or  wrong  conduct  from  conduct  ethically 
indifferent,  we  have  not  yet  considered.  But  no  man 
is  wholly  without  information  in  the  field  of  morals, 
and  we  may  here  fall  back  upon  such  conceptions  as 
men  generally  possess  before  they  have  evolved  a  sci- 
ence of  morals.  In  the  light  of  such  conceptions  a  simple 
and  comparatively  undeveloped  culture  may  compare 
very  favorably  with  one  much  higher  in  the  scale  of 
civilization. 

In  the  simplest  groups  of  human  beings,  justice,  ve- 
racity and  a  regard  to  common  good  may  be  conspicuous ; 
the  claim  of  each  man  upon  his  fellow-man  may  be 
generally  acknowledged.  In  communities  more  advanced, 
the  growth  of  class  distinctions  and  the  inequalities  due 
to  the  amassing  of  wealth  on  the  part  of  individuals 
may  go  far  to  nullify  the  advantage  to  the  individual 


64.         MAN   AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

of  any  advance  made  by  the  community  as  a  whole. 
The  social  bonds  which  have  obtained  between  members 
of  the  same  group  may  be  relaxed;  the  devotion  to  the 
common  good  may  be  replaced  by  the  selfish  calculation 
of  profit  to  the  individual;  the  exploitation  of  man  by 
his  fellow-man  may  be  accepted  as  natural  and  normal. 
It  is  not  without  its  significance  that  the  most  highly 
civilized  of  states  have,  under  the  pressure  of  economic 
advance,  come  to  adopt  the  institution  of  slavery  in  its 
most  degraded  forms;  that  the  problem  of  property 
and  poverty  may  present  itself  as  most  pressing  and 
most  difficult  of  solution  where  national  wealth  has 
grown  to  enormous  proportions.  The  body  politic  may 
be  most  prosperous  from  a  material  point  of  view,  and 
at  the  same  time,  considered  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  moralist,  thoroughly  rotten  in  its  constitution. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that,  even  in  the  most  advanced 
of  modern  civilizations,  whatever  the  degree  of  enlighten- 
ment and  the  power  enjoyed  by  the  community  as  a 
whole,  it  is  quite  possible  for  the  individual  to  be  con- 
demned to  a  life  little  different  in  essentials  from  that 
of  the  lowest  savage.  He  whose  feverish  existence  is 
devoted  to  the  nerve-racking  occupation  of  gambling  in 
stocks,  who  goes  to  his  bed  at  night  scheming  how  he 
may  with  impunity  exploit  his  fellow-man,  and  who 
rises  in  the  morning  with  a  strained  consciousness  of 
possible  fluctuations  in  the  market  which  may  over- 
whelm him  in  irretrievable  disaster,  lives  in  perils  which 
easily  bear  comparison  with  those  which  threaten  the 
precarious  existence  of  primitive  man.  To  masses  of 
men  in  civilized  communities  the  problem  of  the  food 
supply  is  all-absorbing,  and  may  exclude  all  other  and 


MAN'S    MATERIAL    ENVIRONMENT      65 

broader  interests.  The  factory-worker,  with  a  mind  stu- 
pefied by  the  mechanical  repetition  of  some  few  simple 
physical  movements  of  no  possible  interest  to  him  except 
as  resulting  in  the  wage  that  keeps  him  alive,  has  no 
share  in  such  light  as  may  be  scattered  about  him. 

The  control  of  the  forces  of  nature  brings  about  great 
changes  in  human  societies,  but  it  may  leave  the  individ- 
ual, whether  rich  or  poor,  a  prey  to  dangers  and 
anxieties,  engaged  in  an  unequal  combat  with  his  en- 
vironment, absorbed  in  the  satisfaction  of  material  needs, 
undeveloped,  unreflective  and  most  restricted  in  his  out- 
look.    Of  emancipation  there  can  here  be  no  question. 

And  a  civilization  in  which  the  control  of  the  forces 
of  nature  has  been  carried  to  the  highest  pitch  of  devel- 
opment may  furnish  a  background  to  the  darkest  of 
passions.  It  may  serve  as  a  stage  upon  which  callous 
indifference,  greed,  rapacity,  gross  sensuality,  play  their 
parts  naked  and  unashamed.  That  some  men  sunk  in 
ignorance  and  subject  to  such  passions  live  in  huts  and 
have  their  noses  pierced,  and  others  have  taken  up  from 
their  environment  the  habit  of  dining  in  evening  dress, 
is  to  the  moralist  a  relatively  insignificant  detail.  He 
looks  at  the  man,  and  he  finds  him  in  each  case  essen- 
tially the  same  —  a  primitive  and  undeveloped  creature 
who  has  not  come  into  his  rightful  heritage. 


CHAPTER  X 

MAN'S    SOCIAL    ENVIRONMENT 

27.  Man  is  Assigned  his  Place.  —  The  old  fable  of  a 
social  contract,  by  virtue  of  which  man  becomes  a  mem- 
ber of  a  society,  agreeing  to  renounce  certain  rights  he 
might  exercise  if  wholly  independent,  and  to  receive  in 
exchange  legal  rights  w^hich  guarantee  to  the  individual 
the  protection  of  life  and  property  and  the  manifold 
advantages  to  be  derived  from  cooperative  effort,  points 
a  moral,  like  other  fables. 

The  contract  in  question  never  had  an  existence,  but 
neither  did  the  conversation  between  the  grasshopper 
and  the  ant.  In  each  case,  a  truth  is  illustrated  bv  a 
play  of  the  imagination.  Contracts  there  have  been  in 
plenty,  between  individuals,  between  families,  between 
social  classes,  between  nations;  but  they  have  all  been 
contracts  between  men  already  in  a  social  state  of  some 
sort,  capable  of  choice  and  merely  desirous  of  modify- 
ing in  some  particular  some  aspect  of  that  social  state. 
The  notion  of  an  original  contract,  lying  at  the  base  of 
all  association  of  man  with  man,  is  no  more  than  a 
fiction  which  serves  to  illustrate  the  truth  that  the  desires 
and  wills  of  men  are  a  significant  factor  in  determining 
the  particular  forms  under  which  that  association  re- 
veals itself. 

No  man  enters  into  a  contract  to  be  born,  or  to  be  born 

66 


MAN'S    SOCIAL    ENVIRONMENT  67 

a  Kaffir,  a  Malay,  a  Hindoo,  an  Englishman  or  an  Amer- 
ican. He  enters  the  world  without  his  own  consent,  and 
without  his  own  connivance  he  is  assigned  a  place  in  a 
social  state  of  some  sort.  The  reception  which  is  ac- 
corded to  him  is  of  the  utmost  moment  to  him.  He  may 
be  rejected  utterly  by  the  social  forces  presiding  over 
his  birth.  In  which  case  he  does  not  start  life  independ- 
ently, but  is  snuffed  out  as  is  a  candle-flame  by  the 
wind.  And  if  accepted,  as  he  usually  is  in  civilized 
communities,  he  takes  his  place  in  the  definite  social 
order  into  which  he  is  born,  and  becomes  the  subject  of 
education  and  training  as  a  member  of  that  particular 
community. 

28.  Varieties  of  the  Social  Order.  —  The  social  order 
into  which  he  is  thus  ushered  may  be  most  varied  in 
character.  He  may  find  himself  a  member  of  a  small 
and  primitive  group  of  human  beings,  a  family  standing 
in  more  or  less  loose  relations  to  a  limited  number  of 
other  families;  he  may  belong  to  a  clan  in  which  family 
relationship  still  serves  as  a  real  or  Active  bond;  his 
clan  may  have  its  place  in  a  confederation;  or  the  body 
politic  in  which  he  is  a  unit  may  be  a  nation,  or  an 
empire  including  many  nationalities. 

His  relations  to  his  fellow-man  will  naturally  present 
themselves  to  him  in  a  different  light  according  to  the 
different  nature  of  the  social  environment  in  which  he 
finds  himself.  The  community  of  feeling  and  of  interests 
which  defines  rights,  determines  expectations,  and  pre- 
scribes" duties,  cannot  be  the  same  under  differing  con- 
ditions. Social  life  implies  cooperation,  but  the  limits 
of  possible  cooperation  are  very  differently  estimated 
by  man  at  different  stages  of  his  development.    To  a  few 


68  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

human  beings  each  man  is  bomid  closely  at  every  stage 
of  his  evolution.  The  family  bond  is  everywhere  recog- 
nized. But,  beyond  that,  there  are  wider  and  looser 
relationships  recognized  in  very  diverse  degrees,  as  intel- 
ligence expands,  as  economic  advance  and  political  en- 
lightenment make  possible  a  community  life  on  a  larger 
scale,  as  sympathy  becomes  less  narrow  and  exclusive. 

It  is  not  easy  for  a  member  of  a  community  at  a 
given  stage  of  its  development  even  to  conceive  the 
possibility  of  such  communities  as  may  come  into  exist- 
ence under  widely  different  conditions.  The  simple,  com- 
munistic savage,  limited  in  his  outlook,  thinks  in  terms 
of  small  numbers.  A  handful  of  individuals  enjoy  mem- 
bership in  his  group;  he  recognizes  certain  relations, 
more  or  less  loose,  to  other  groups,  with  which  his  group 
comes  into  contact;  beyond  is  the  stranger,  the  natural 
enemy,  upon  whom  he  has  no  claim  and  to  whom  he 
owes  no  duty. 

At  a  higher  level  there  comes  into  being  the  state, 
including  a  greater  number  of  individuals  and  internally 
organized  as  the  simpler  society  is  not.  But  even  in  a 
highly  civilized  state  much  the  same  attitude  towards- 
different  classes  of  human  beings  may  seem  natural  and 
inevitable.  To  Plato  there  remained  the  strongly  marked 
distinctions  between  the  Athenian,  the  citizen  of  another 
Hellenic  community,  and  the  barbarian.  War,  when 
waged  against  the  last,  might  justifiably  be  merciless; 
not  so,  when  it  was  war  between  Greek  states.^  Into 
such  conceptions  of  rights  and  duties  men  are  born;  they 
take  them  up  with  the  very  air  that  they  breathe,  and 

1  Republic,  Book  V. 


MAN'S    SOCIAL    ENVIRONMENT  69 

they  may  never  feel  impelled  to  subject  them  to  the  test 
of  criticism. 

It  is  instructive  to  remark  that  neither  the  speculative 
genius  of  a  Plato  nor  the  acute  intelligence  of  an  Aristotle 
could  rise  to  the  conception  of  an  organized,  self-govern- 
ing community  on  a  great  scale.  To  each  it  seemed 
evident  that  the  group  proper  must  remain  a  compar- 
atively small  one.  Plato  finds  it  necessary  to  provide  in 
his  "  Laws  "  that  the  number  of  households  in  the  State 
shall  be  limited  to  five  thousand  and  forty.  Aristotle,  less 
arbitrarily  exact,  allows  a  variation  within  rather  broad 
limits,  holding  that  a  political  community  should  not 
comprise  a  number  of  citizens  smaller  than  ten,  nor  one 
greater  than  one  hundred  thousand.^  That  a  highly 
organized  state,  a  state  not  composed  of  a  horde  of 
subjects  under  autocratic  control,  but  one  in  which  the 
citizens  are,  in  theory,  self-governing,  should  spread 
over  half  a  continent  and  include  a  hundred  millions 
of  souls,  would  have  seemed  to  these  men  of  genius  the 
wildest  of  dreams.    Yet  such  a  dream  has  been  realized. 

29.  Social  Organization.  —  The  social  body  of  which 
man  becomes,  by  the  accident  of  birth,  an  involuntary 
member,  may  stand  at  any  point  in  the  scale  of  eco- 
nomic evolution.  It  may  be  a  primitive  group  living 
from  hand  to  mouth  by  the  chase,  by  fishing  or  by 
gathering  such  food  as  nature  spontaneously  produces. 
It  may  be  a  pastoral  people,  more  or  less  nomadic, 
occupied  with  the  care  of  flocks  and  herds.  It  may  be 
an  agricultural  community,  rooted  to  the  soil,  looking 
forward  from  seed-time  to  harvest,  capable  of  foresight 
in  storing  and  distributing  the  fruits  of  its  labors.  It 
2  Plato,  Laws,  v.  Aristotle,  Ethics,  ix,  10. 


70  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

may  combine  some  of  the  above  activities;  and  may, 
in  addition,  have  arrived  at  the  stage  at  which  tlie  arts 
and  crafts  have  attained  to  a  considerable  development. 
In  its  life  commerce  may  have  come  to  play  an  impor- 
tant role,  bringing  it  into  peaceful  relations  with  other 
communities  and  broadening  the  circle  of  its  interests. 

That  human  societies  at  such  different  stages  of  their 
development  should  differ  greatly  in  their  internal  organ- 
ization, in  their  relations  to  other  communities,  and  in 
the  demands  which  they  make  upon  the  individuals 
who  compose  them,  is  to  be  expected.  Some  manner 
of  life,  appropriate  to  the  status  of  the  community, 
comes  to  be  prescribed.  The  ideal  of  conduct,  whether 
unconsciously  admitted  or  consciously  embraced  and 
inculcated,  is  not  the  same  in  different  societies.  The 
virtues  which  come  to  be  prized,  the  defects  which  are 
disapproved,   vary  with  their   setting. 

Moreover,  the  process  of  inner  development  results 
in  differentiation  of  function.  Clearly  marked  social 
classes  come  into  existence,  standing  in  more  or  less 
sharply  defined  relations  to  other  social  classes,  en- 
dowed with  special  rights  and  called  to  the  performance 
of  peculiar  duties. 

Man  is  not  merely  born  into  this  or  that  community; 
he  is  born  into  a  place  in  the  community.  In  very 
primitive  societies  that  place  may  differ  little  from  other 
places,  save  as  such  are  determined  by  age  or  sex.  But 
in  more  highly  differentiated  societies  it  may  differ 
enormously,  entail  the  performance  of  widely  different 
functions,  and  prescribe  distinct  varieties  of  conduct. 

"  What   will    be   the   manner   of    life,"    said   Plato,^ 

3  Laws,  vii. 


MAN'S    SOCIAL    EXVIROXMENT  71 

"  among  men  who  may  be  supposed  to  have  their  food 
and  clothing  provided  for  them  in  moderation,  and  who 
have  entrusted  the  practice  of  the  arts  to  others,  and 
whose  husbandry,  committed  to  slaves  paying  a  part 
of  the  produce,  brings  them  a  return  sufficient  for  living 
temperately?" 

His  ideal  leisure  class  is  patterned  after  what  he  saw 
before  him  in  Athens.  He  conceives  those  who  belong  to 
it  to  be  set  free  from  sordid  cares  and  physical  labors, 
in  order  that  they  may  devote  themselves  to  the  per- 
fecting of  their  own  minds  and  bodies  and  to  preparation 
for  the  serious  work  of  supervising  and  controlling  the 
state.  Their  membership  in  the  class  defined  their  duties 
and  prescribed  the  course  of  education  which  should  fit 
them  to  fulfill  them.  It  is  not  conceived  that  the  func- 
tions natural  and  proper  to  one  human  being  are  also 
natural  and  proper  to  another  in  tlie  same  community. 

The  flat  monotony  which  obtains  in  those  simplest 
human  societies,  resembling  extended  families,  where 
there  is  scarcely  a  demarcation  of  classes,  a  distinction 
of  occupations  and  a  recognition  of  private  property  in 
any  developed  sense,  has  given  place  in  such  a  state 
to  sharp  contrasts  in  the  status  of  man  and  man.  Such 
contrasts  obtain  in  all  modern  civilized  communities. 
Man  is  not  merely  a  subject  or  citizen;  he  is  a  subject 
or. citizen  of  this  class  or  of  that,  and  the  environment 
which  molds  him  varies  accordingly. 

30.  Social  Order  and  Human  Will.  —  We  have  seen 
that  the  material  environment  of  a  man,  the  extent  of 
his  mastery  over  nature  and  of  his  emancipation  from 
the  dictation  of  pressing  bodily  needs,  is  a  factor  of 
enormous  importance  in  determining  what  he  shall  be- 


72  MAN    AND    HIS    ENVIRONMENT 

come  and  what  sort  of  a  life  he  shall  lead.  That  his 
social  setting  is  equally  significant  is  obvious.  What 
he  shall  know,  what  habits  he  shall  form,  what  emotions 
he  shall  experience  in  this  situation  and  in  that,  what 
tasks  he  shall  find  set  before  him,  and  what  ideals  he 
shall  strive  to  attain,  are  largely  determined  for  him 
independently  of  his  choice. 

To  be  sure,  it  remains  true  that  man  is  man,  endowed 
with  certain  instincts  and  impulses  and  gifted  with 
human  intelligence.  Nor  are  all  men  alike  in  their  im- 
pulses or  in  the  degree  of  their  intelligence.  Within 
limits  the  individual  may  exercise  choice,  reacting  upon 
and  modifying  his  environment  and  himself.  But  a 
moment's  reflection  reveals  to  us  that  the  new  departure 
is  but  a  step  taken  from  a  vantage-ground  which  has 
not  been  won  by  independent  effort.  The  information 
in  the  light  of  which  he  chooses,  the  situation  in  the 
face  of  which  he  acts,  the  emotional  nature  which  impels 
him  to  effort,  the  habits  of  thought  and  action  which 
have  become  part  of  his  being  —  these  are  largely  due 
to  the  larger  whole  of  which  he  finds  himself  a  part. 
He  did  not  build  the  stage  upon  which  he  is  to  act.  His 
lines  have  been  learned  from  others.  He  may  recite 
them  imperfectly;  he  may  modify  them  in  this  or  in 
that  particular.  But  the  drama  from  which,  and  from 
which  alone,  ho  gains  his  significance,  is  not  his  own 
creation. 

The  independence  of  the  individual  in  the  face  of 
his  material  and  social  environment  makes  itself  more 
apparent  with  the  progressive  development  of  man.  But 
man  attains  his  development  as  a  member  of  society,  and 
in  the  course  of  a  historical  evolution.    It  was  pointed 


MAN'S    SOCIAL    ENVIRONMENT  73 

out  many  centuries  ago  that  a  hand  cut  off  from  the 
human  body  cannot  properly  be  called  a  hand,  for  it 
can  perform  none  of  the  functions  of  one.  And  man, 
torn  from  his  setting,  can  no  longer  be  considered  man 
as  the  proper  subject  of  moral  science. 

It  is  as  a  thinking  and  willing  creature  in  a  social 
setting  that  man  becomes  a  moral  agent.  To  understand 
him  Tve  must  make  a  study  of  the  individual  and  of 
the  social  will. 


PART  IV 
THE  REALM  OF  ENDS 


CHAPTER  XI 
IMPULSE,  DESIRE,  AND  WILL 

31.  Impulse.  —  Commands  and  prohibitions  address 
themselves  to  man  as  a  voluntary  agent.  But  it  seems 
right  to  treat  as  willed  by  man  much  more  than  falls 
under  the  head  of  conscious  and  deliberate  volition.  We 
do  not  hesitate  to  make  him  responsible  for  vastly  more ; 
and  yet  common  sense  does  not,  when  enlightened,  regard 
men  as  responsible  for  what  is  recognized  as  falling 
wholly  beyond  the  direct  and  indirect  control  of  their 
wills. 

Motions  due  to  even  the  blindest  of  impulses  are  not 
to  be  confounded  with  those  brought  about  by  external 
compulsion.  They  may  have  the  appearance  of  being 
vaguely  purposive,  although  we  would  never  attribute 
purpose  to  the  creature  making  them.  The  infant  that 
cries  and  struggles,  when  tormented  by  the  intrusive 
pin,  the  worm  writhing  in  the  beak  of  a  bird,  —  these 
act  blindly,  but  it  does  not  appear  meaningless  to  say 
that  they  act.     The  impulse  is  from  within. 

Some  impulses  result  in  actions  very  nicely  adjusted 
to  definite  ends.  Such  are  winking,  sneezing,  swallowing. 
These  reflexes  may  occur  as  the  mechanical  response  to 
a  given  stimulus.  They  may  occur  without  our  being 
conscious  of  them  and  without  our  having  willed  them. 

Yet  such  responses  to  stimuli  are  not  necessarily  un- 

77 


78  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

conscious  and  cut  off  from  voluntary  control.  He  who 
winks  involuntarily  when  a  hand  is  passed  before  his 
eyes  may  become  conscious  that  he  has  done  so,  and 
may,  if  he  chooses,  even  acquire  some  facility  in  con- 
trolling the  reflex.  One  may  resist  the  tendency  to 
swallow  when  the  throat  is  dry,  may  hold  back  a  sneeze, 
or  may  keep  rigid  the  hand  that  is  pricked  by  a  pin. 
That  is  to  say,  actions  in  their  origin  mechanical  and 
independent  of  choice  may  be  raised  out  of  their  low 
estate,  made  the  objects  of  attention,  and  brought  within 
the  domain  of  deliberate  choice. 

Furthermore,  many  actions  which,  at  the  outset, 
claimed  conscious  attention  and  were  deliberately  willed 
may  become  so  habitual  that  the  doer  lapses  into  uncon- 
sciousness or  semi-unconsciousness  of  his  deed.  They 
take  on  the  nature  of  acquired  reflexes.  The  habit  of 
acting  appears  to  have  been  acquired  by  the  mind  and 
then  turned  over  to  the  body,  that  the  mind  may  be  free 
to  occupy  itself  with  other  activities.  The  man  has 
become  less  the  doer  than  the  spectator  of  his  acts;  per- 
haps he  is  even  less  than  that,  he  is  the  stage  upon  which 
the  action  makes  its  appearance,  while  the  spectator  is 
his  neighbor.  The  complicated  bodily  movements  called 
into  play  when  one  bites  one's  nails  had  to  be  learned. 
It  requires  no  little  ingenuity  to  accomplish  the  act  when 
the  nails  are  short.  Yet  one  may  come  to  the  stage  of 
perfection  at  which  one  bites  one's  nails  when  one  is 
absorbed  in  thought  about  other  things.  And  one  may 
learn  to  slander  one's  neighbor  almost  as  mechanically 
and  unthinkingly  as  one  swallows  when  the  throat  is  dry. 

When  we  speak  of  man's  impulses,  we  are  using  a 
vague  word.     There  are  impulses  which  will  never  be 


IMPULSE,    DESIRE,    AND    WILL  79 

anything  more.  There  are  impulses  which  may  become 
something  more.  There  are  impulses  which  are  no  longer 
anything  more.  Impulses  have  their  psychic  aspect.  At 
its  lower  limit,  impulse  may  appear  very  mechanical; 
at  its  upper,  one  may  hesitate  to  say  that  desire  and 
will  are  wholly  absent.  It  is  not  wise  to  regard  impulse 
as  lying  wholly  beyond  the  sphere  of  wull. 

32.  Desire.  —  At  its  lower  limit,  desire  is  not  dis- 
tinguished by  any  sharp  line  from  mere  impulse.  Is 
the  infant  that  stretches  out  its  hands  toward  a  bright 
object  conscious  of  a  desire  to  possess  it?  Or  does  the 
motion  made  follow  the  visual  sensation  as  the  wail 
follows  the  wound  made  by  the  pin?  At  a  certain  stage 
of  development  the  phenomena  of  desire  become  unmis- 
takable. The  idea  of  something  to  be  attained,  the  no- 
tion of  means  to  the  attainment  of  an  end,  the  conscious- 
ness of  tension,  may  stand  out  clearly.  The  analysis  of 
the  psychologist,  which  finds  in  desire  a  consciousness 
of  the  present  state  of  the  self,  an  idea  of  a  future  state, 
and  a  feeling  of  tension  towards  the  realization  of  the 
latter,  may  represent  faithfully  the  elements  present  in 
desire  in  the  higher  stages  of  its  development,  but  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find  those  elements  clearly  marked 
in  desire  which  has  just  begun  to  differentiate  itself  from 
impulse.  There  may  be  a  desire  where  there  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  be  a  self  as  an  object  of  consciousness;  one 
may  desire  where  there  is  no  clear  consciousness  of  a 
future  state  as  distinct  from  a  present  one. 

Moreover,  the  consciousness  of  desire  may  be  faint  and 
fugitive,  as  it  may  be  intense  and  persistent.  Desire 
is  the  step  between  the  first  consciousness  of  the  object 
and  the  voluntary  release  of  energy  which  works  toward 


80  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

its  attainment.  This  step  may  be  passed  over  almost 
unnoticed.  The  thought  of  shifting  my  position  when 
I  feel  uncomfortable  may  be  followed  by  the  act  with 
no  clear  consciousness  of  a  tension  and  its  voluntary 
release.  The  mere  thought,  itself  but  faintly  and  momen- 
tarily in  consciousness,  appears  to  be  followed  at  once 
by  the  act,  and  desire  and  will  to  be  eliminated.  It 
does  not  follow  that  they  are  actually  eliminated;  they 
may  be  present  as  fleeting  shadows  which  fail  to  attract 
attention. 

If,  however,  the  desire  fails  to  find  its  immediate 
fruition,  if  it  is  frustrated,  consciousness  of  it  may  be- 
come exceedingly  intense.  There  is  the  constant  thought 
of  the  object,  a  vivid  feeling  of  tension,  of  a  striving  to 
attain  the  object.  Desire  may  become  an  obsession,  a 
torment  filling  the  horizon,  and  the  volition  in  which  it 
finds  its  fruition  stands  forth  as  a  marked  relief.  This 
condition  of  things  may  be  brought  about  by  the  in- 
hibition occasioned  by  the  physical  impossibility  of  at- 
taining the  object;  but  it  may  also  be  brought  about 
by  the  struggle  of  incompatible  desires  among  themselves. 
The  man  is  drawn  in  different  directions,  he  is  subject 
to  various  tensions,  and  he  becomes  acutely  conscious 
that  he  is  impelled  to  move  in  several  ways  and  is 
moving  in  none. 

I  have  used  the  word  "  tension  "  to  describe  the  psychic 
fact  present  in  desire.  I  have  done  so  for  want  of  a 
better  word.  Of  the  physical  basis  of  desire,  of  what 
takes  place  in  the  brain,  we  know  nothing.  With  the 
psychic  fact,  the  feeling  of  agitation  and  unrest,  we  are 
all  familiar.  Of  the  tendency  of  desire  to  discharge 
itself  in  action  we  are  aware.    A  desire  appears  to  be 


IMPULSE,    DESIRE,    AND    WILL  81 

an  inchoate  volition  —  that  which,  if  ripened  success- 
fully and  not  nipped  in  the  bud,  would  become  a  volition. 
It  may  be  looked  upon  as  the  first  step  toward  action 
—  a  step  which  may  or  may  not  be  followed  by  others. 
It  does  not  seem  out  of  place  to  call  it  a  state  of  tension, 
of  strain,  of  inclination.  In  speaking,  thus,  we  use 
physical  metaphors,  but  they  do  not  appear  out  of  place. 

33.  Desire  of  the  Unattainable.  —  But  if  a  desire  may 
be  regarded  as  an  unripe  act  of  will,  an  inchoate  volition, 
how  is  it  that  we  can  desire  the  unattainable,  a  suffi- 
ciently common  experience?  I  may  bitterly  regret 
some  act  of  my  own  in  the  past;  I  may  earnestly  wish 
that  I  had  not  performed  it.  But  the  past  is  irrevocable. 
Hence,  the  desire  for  the  attainment  of  what  is  in  this 
case  the  object,  a  different  past,  can  hardly  be  regarded 
as  even  a  preparatory  step  toward  attainment. 

In  this  case  it  can  not,  and  were  all  desires  directed 
upon  what  is  in  the  nature  of  the  case  wholly  unattain- 
able by  effort,  it  would  occur  to  no  one  to  speak  of  desire 
as  a  first  step  toward  action.  But  normally  and  usually 
desires  are  not  of  this  nature.  They  usually  do  consti- 
tute a  link  in  the  chain  of  occurrences  which  end  in 
action.  Did  they  not,  they  would  have  little  significance 
in  the  life-history  of  the  creature  desiring.  With  the 
appearance  of  free  ideas,  with  an  extension  of  the  range 
of  memory  and  imagination,  objects  may  be  held  before 
the  mind  which  are  not  properly  objects  to  be  attained. 
Yet  such  objects  are  of  the  kind  which  attract  or  repel, 
i.e.,  of  the  kind  which  men  endeavor  to  realize  in 
action.  They  cannot  be  realized;  we  do  not  will  to  realize 
them;  but  we  should  will  to  do  so  were  they  realiz- 
able.     The    psychic    factor,    the    strain,    the    tension, 


82  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

is  unmistakably  present.  Real  desire  is  revealed,  and 
common  speech,  as  well  as  the  language  of  science,  rec- 
ognizes the  fact. 

This  general  attraction  or  repulsion  exercised  by  ob- 
jects, in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  objects  may  not  appear 
to  be  realizable,  is  not  without  significance.  The  hin- 
drance to  realization  may  be  an  accidental  one;  it  may 
not  be  wholly  insuperable.  The  presence  of  a  persistent 
desire  may  result  in  persistent  effort,  which  may  ulti- 
mately be  crowned  by  success.  Or  it  may  show  itself 
as  a  permanent  readiness  for  effort.  Were  every  frus- 
trated desire  at  once  dismissed  from  consciousness,  the 
result  would  show  itself  in  a  passivity  detrimental  to 
action  in  general.  Where  the  object  is  intrinsically  an 
impossible  one,  persistent  desire  is,  of  course,  futile.  The 
dog  baying  at  the  cat  in  the  tree  is  the  prey  of  such 
a  desire,  but  he  does  not  realize  it,  or  he  might  discontinue 
his  inefficacious  leaps.  The  man  tormented  by  his  un- 
worthy act  in  the  past  is  quite  aware  of  the  futility 
of  his  longings.  His  condition  is  psychologically  ex- 
plicable, but  to  a  rational  being,  in  so  far  as  rational, 
it  is  not  normal. 

Normally,  desire  is  the  intermediate  step  between  the 
recognition  of  an  object  and  the  will  to  attain  it.  The 
most  futile  of  desires  may  be  harbored.  The  imaginative 
mind  may  range  over  a  limitless  field,  and  give  itself 
up  to  desires  the  most  extravagant.  But  indulgence  in 
this  habit  serves  as  a  check  to  action  serviceable  to 
the  individual  and  to  the  race.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
desire  is  usually  for  what  seems  conceivably  within 
the  limit  of  possible  attainment.  The  man  desires  to 
catch  a  train,  to  run  that  he  may  attain  that  end;  his 


IMPULSE,    DESIRE,    AND    WILL  83 

mind  is  little  occupied  with  the  desire  to  fly,  nor  does 
his  longing  center  upon  the  carpet  of  Solomon.  To  the 
desirability  of  dismissing  from  the  mind  futile  desires 
current  moral  maxims  bear  witness. 

34.  Will.  —  The  natural  fruition  of  a  desire  is,  then, 
an  act  of  will;  the  tension  is  normally  followed  by 
that  release  of  energy  which  makes  for  the  attainment 
of  the  object  or  end  of  the  desire. 

The  question  suggests  itself,  may  there  not  be  present, 
even  in  blindly  impulsive  action,  something  faintly  cor- 
responding to  desire  and  will?  That  there  should  be  an 
object  in  the  sense  of  something  aimed  at,  held  in  view 
as  an  idea  to  be  realized,  appears  to  be  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. But  may  there  not  be  a  more  or  less  vague  and 
evanescent  sense  of  tension,  and  some  psychic  fact  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  shadowy  forerunner  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  release  of  tension  which,  on  a  higher 
plane,  reveals  itself  as  the  consciousness  of  will?  There 
may  be:  introspection  is  not  capable  of  answering  the 
question,  and  one  is  forced  to  fall  back  upon  an  argument 
from  analogy.  Blindly  impulsive  action  and  action  in 
which  will  indubitably  and  consciously  plays  a  part  are 
not  wholly  unlike,  but  they  differ  by  a  very  wide  inter- 
val. The  interval  is  not  an  empty  gap,  however,  for, 
as  we  have  seen,  all  volitions  do  not  stand  out  upon  the 
background  of  our  consciousness  with  the  same  unmis- 
takable distinctness.  There  are  volitions  no  one  would 
hesitate  to  call  such.  And  there  are  phenomena  resem- 
bling volition  which  we  more  and  more  doubtfully  in- 
clude under  that  caption  as  we  pass  own  on  the  descend- 
ing scale. 

Naturally,  in  describing  desire  and   volition  we  do 


84  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

not  turn  to  the  twilight  region  where  all  outlines  are 
blurred  and  indistinct.  We  fix  our  attention  upon  those 
instances  in  which  the  phenomena  are  clearly  and 
strongly  marked.  They  are  most  clearly  marked  where 
desire  does  not,  at  once  and  unimpeded,  discharge  itself 
in  action,  but  where  action  is  deferred,  and  a  struggle 
takes  place  between  desires. 

The  man  is  subject  to  various  tensions,  he  is  impelled 
in  divers  directions,  he  hesitates,  deliberates,  and  he 
finally  makes  a  decision.  During  this  period  of  delib- 
eration he  is  apt  to  be  vividly  conscious  of  desire  as 
such  —  as  a  tension  not  yet  relieved,  as  an  alternation  of 
tensions  as  the  attention  occupies  itself,  first  with  one 
desirable  object,  then  with  another.  And  the  decision, 
which  puts  an  end  to  the  strife,  is  clearly  distinguished 
from  the  desires  as  such. 

In  the  reflective  mind,  which  turns  its  attention  upon 
itself  and  its  own  processes,  the  distinction  between 
desire  and  will  seems  to  be  a  marked  one.  But  it  is 
not  merely  the  developed  and  reflective  mind  which  is 
the  seat  of  deliberation.  The  child  deliberates  between 
satisfying  its  appetite  and  avoiding  possible  punishment; 
it  reaches  for  the  forbidden  fruit,  and  withdraws  its 
hand;  it  wavers,  it  is  moved  in  one  direction  as  one 
desire  becomes  predominant,  and  its  action  is  checked 
as  the  other  gains  in  ascendency.  Deliberation  this 
unmistakably  is.  And  deliberation  we  may  observe  in 
creatures  below  the  level  of  man;  in  the  sparrow,  hop- 
ping as  close  as  it  dares  to  the  hand  that  sprinkles 
crumbs  before  it;  in  the  dog,  ready  to  dart  away  in 
pursuance  of  his  private  desires,  but  restrained  by  the 
warning  voice  of  his  master.    This  is  deliberation.    Such 


IMPULSE,    DESIRE,    AND    WILL  85 

deliberation  as  we  find  in  the  developed  and  enlightened 
human  being  it  is  not.  That,  however,  there  is  present 
even  in  these  humble  instances,  some  psychic  fact  cor- 
responding to  what  in  the  higher  mind  reveals  itself 
as  desire  and  volition,  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt. 

35.  Desire  and  Will  not  Identical.  —  I  have  had  oc- 
casion to  remark  that  the  modern  psychologist  draws  no 
such  sharp  line  between  desire  and  volition  as  the  psy- 
chologist of  an  earlier  time.  That  some  distinction  should 
be  drawn  seems  palpable.  It  is  not  without  significance 
that  immemorial  usage  sanctions  this  distinction.  The 
ancient  Stoic's  quarrel  was  wuth  the  desires,  not  with  the 
will.  The  wdll  was  treated  as  a  master  endowed  with 
rightful  authority';  the  desires  were  subjects,  often  in 
rebellion,  but  justly  to  be  held  in  subjection.  And  from 
the  days  of  the  Stoic  down  almost  to  our  own,  the  will 
has  been  treated  much  as  though  it  were  an  especial 
and  distinct  faculty  of  man,  not  uninfluenced  by  desire, 
but  in  no  sense  to  be  identified  with  it,  —  above  it,  its 
law-giver,  detached,  independent,  supreme.  This  tend- 
ency finds  its  culmination  in  that  impressive  modern 
Stoic,  Immanuel  Kant,  who  desires  to  isolate  the  will, 
and  to  emancipate  it  altogether  from  the  influence  of 
desire. 

Recently  the  pendulum  has  swung  in  the  other  direc- 
tion. It  has  been  recognized  that  will  is  the  natural 
outcome  of  desire,  and  that  without  desire  there  would 
be  no  will  at  all.  It  has  even  been  maintained  that 
will  is  desire,  the  desire  "  with  which  the  self  identifies 
itself."  1 

To  this  last  form  of  expression  objection  may  be  made 

1  See,  for  example,  Gueen,  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §§  144-149. 


86  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

on  the  score  of  its  vagueness.  What  does  it  mean  for 
the  self  to  "  identify "  itself  with  a  desire?  And  if 
such  an  identification  is  necessary  to  will,  can  there 
be  volition  or  anything  resembling  volition  where  self- 
consciousness  has  not  yet  been  developed?  It  is  very 
imperfectly  developed  in  young  children,  and  in  the 
lower  animals  still  less  developed,  if  at  all;  and  yet 
we  see  in  them  the  struggle  of  desires  and  the  resultant 
decision  emerging  in  action.  If  we  call  a  volition  in 
which  consciousness  of  the  self  has  played  its  part 
"  volition  proper,"  it  still  remains  to  inquire  how  voli- 
tions on  a  lower  plane  are  to  be  distinguished  from 
mere   desires. 

What  happens  in  a  typical  case  of  deliberation  and 
decision?  Two  or  more  objects  are  before  the  mind  and 
the  attention  occupies  itself  with  them  successively. 
Tensions  alternate,  wax  strong  and  die  away,  only  to 
recover  their  strength  again.  Finally  the  attention  fixes 
upon  one  object  to  the  exclusion  of  others,  the  strife  of 
desires  come  to  an  end,  and  there  is  an  inception  of 
action  in  the  direction  of  the  realization  of  that  par- 
ticular desire.  The  desire  itself  is  not  to  be  confounded 
with  the  decision;  the  tension,  with  its  release.  The 
psychic  fact  is  in  the  two  cases  different.  The  decision 
brings  relief  from  the  strain.  It  cannot  properly  be 
called  a  desire,  not  even  a  triumphant  desire,  although 
in  it  a  desire  attains  a  victory  and  its  realization  has 
begun. 

Such  a  victory  not  all  desires,  even  when  most  intense 
and  prolonged,  are  able  to  attain.  We  have  seen  that 
the  desire  for  the  unattainable  may  amount  to  an  ob- 
session, and  yet  it  will  not  ripen  into  an  act  of  volition. 


IMPULSE,    DESIRE,    AND    WILL  87 

The  release  of  the  tension  in  incipient  action  does  not 
come.  The  bent  bow  remains  bent.  From  the  sense 
of  strain  in  such  a  case  one  may  be  freed,  as  one  is 
freed  from  the  desires  which  succumb  during  the  process 
of  deliberation,  by  the  occupation  of  the  attention  with 
other  things.  But  the  desire  has  been  forgotten,  not 
satisfied.     It  may  at  any  time  recur  in  all  its  strength. 

We  cannot  more  nearly  describe  the  psychic  fact 
called  decision.  Just  as  we  cannot  more  nearly  describe 
the  psychic  fact  to  which  we  have  given  the  name  "  ten- 
sion." Although  the  nervous  basis  of  the  phenomena 
of  desire  and  will  are  unknown,  we  can  easily  conceive 
that,  during  desire,  and  before  desire  has  resulted  in 
the  release  of  energy  which  is  the  immediate  forerunner 
of  action,  the  cerebral  occurrence  should  be  different 
from  that  which  is  present  when  that  release  takes  place. 
Nor  should  it  be  surprising  that  the  psychical  fact  cor- 
responding to  each  should  be  different. 

The  view  here  set  forth  does  not  confuse  desire  and 
will,  making  will  indistinguishable  from  desire,  or,  at 
least,  from  certain  desires.  On  the  other  hand,  it  does 
not  separate  them,  as  though  thej^  could  not  be  brought 
within  the  one  series  of  occurrences  which  may  properly 
be  regarded  as  a  unit.  It  has  the  advantage  of  making 
comprehensible  the  mutual  relations  of  impulse,  desire, 
and  will.  Blind  impulse  discharges  itself  in  action  seem- 
ingly without  the  psychic  accompaniments  which  distin- 
guish desire  and  will.  But  all  impulse  is  not  blind  impulse, 
and  desiring  and  willing  admit  of  many  degrees  of  de- 
velopment. To  deny  will  to  creatures  lower  than  man, 
as  some  writers  have  done,  is  to  misconceive  the  nature 
of  the  process  that  issues  in  action.    We  are  tempted 


88  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

to  do  it  only  when  we  compare  will  in  its  highest  mani- 
festations with  those  rudimentary  foreshadowings  of 
it  which  stand  at  the  lower  end  of  the  scale.  But  even 
in  man  we  can  discern  blind  impulse,  dimly  conscious 
desires  which  ripen  into  as  dimly  recognized  decisions, 
and,  at  the  very  top  of  the  scale,  conscious  decisions 
which  follow  deliberation,  and  are  the  resultant  of  a 
struggle   between   many   desires. 

For  ethical  science  it  is  of  no  little  importance  to 
apprehend  clearly  the  relation  of  decision  to  desire. 
Moral  rules  aim  to  control  human  conduct,  and  conduct 
is  the  expression  of  the  whole  man.  If  we  have  no 
clear  conception  of  the  desires  which  struggle  for  the 
mastery  within  him,  and  of  the  relation  of  his  decisions 
to  those  desires,  in  vain  will  we  endeavor  to  influence 
him  in  the  direction  in  which  we  wish  him  to  move. 

36.  The  Will  and  Deferred  Action.  —  It  remains  to 
speak  briefly  of  one  point  touching  the  nature  of  will. 
It  has  been  suggested  that  the  decision  is  the  psychic  fact 
corresponding  to  the  release  of  nervous  energy  which 
relieves  the  tension  of  desire.  It  is  the  beginning  of 
action,  of  realization.  But  what  shall  we  say  of  re- 
solves which  cannot  at  once  be  carried  out  in  action? 
Of  decisions  the  realization  of  which  is  deferred?  I  may 
long  debate  the  matter  and  then  determine  to  pay  a  bill 
when  it  comes  due  next  month.  The  decision  is  made; 
but,  for  a  time,  at  least,  nothing  happens.  How  can  I 
here  speak  of  the  beginning  of  action? 

The  action  does  not  at  once  begin,  yet  it  is,  in  a  sense, 
initiated.  The  struggle  of  conflicting  considerations  has 
ceased ;  the  man  is  "  set  "  for  action  in  a  certain  direc- 
tion.    For  the  time  being  the  matter  is  settled,  and 


IMPULSE,    DESIRE,    AND    WILL         89 

only  an  external  circumstance  prevents  the  resolve  from 
being  carried  out.  The  psychic  factor  is  widely  different 
from  that  of  mere  desire,  and  is  not  recognized  to  be 
different  from  that  present  in  volition  which  at  once 
issues  in  action. 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  PERMANENT  WILL 

37.  Consciously  Chosen  Ends.  —  Our  volitions,  delib- 
erate, less  deliberate,  and  those  verging  upon  what 
scarcely  deserves  the  name  of  volition,  weave  themselves 
into  complicated  patterns,  which  find  their  expression 
in  long  series  of  the  most  varied  activities.  The  nature 
of  the  pattern  as  a  whole  may  be  determined  by  the 
deliberate  selection  of  an  end,  and  to  that  the  other 
choices  which  enter  into  the  complex  may  be  subordinate. 

Thus,  a  man  may  decide  that  he  can  afford  to  give 
himself  the  pleasure  of  a  long  walk  through  the  country 
before  taking  the  train  at  the  next  town.  During  the 
course  of  the  ramble  he  may  make  a  number  of  more 
or  less  conscious  decisions  not  incompatible  with  the 
purpose  he  originally  embraced  —  to  take  this  bit  of 
road  or  that,  to  loiter  in  the  shade,  to  climb  a  hill  that 
he  may  enjoy  a  view,  to  hasten  lest  he  find  himself  too 
late  in  arriving  at  his  destination.  These  decisions  may 
require  little  deliberation;  they  spring  into  being  at  the 
call  of  the  moment,  are  not  preceded  by  deliberation, 
and  leave  little  trace  in  tlie  memory.  They  may  be 
made  semi-consciously,  and  while  the  mind  is  largely 
occupied  with  other  things,  with  thoughts  of  the  past  or 
the  future,  with  other  scenes  suggested  by  the  landscape, 

90 


THE    PERMANENT    WILL  91 

or  with  the  flowers  which  skirt  the  road.  Nevertheless, 
we  would  not  hesitate  to  call  them  decisions. 

May  we  apply  the  word  in  speaking  of  the  single 
steps  made  by  the  traveler  as  he  advances?  His  feet 
seem  to  move  of  themselves  and  to  make  no  demands  at 
all  upon  his  attention. 

Yet  it  is  not  strictly  true  to  say  that  they  move  of 
themselves.  They  are  under  control,  and  the  successive 
steps  follow  upon  each  other  not  without  direction. 
They  serve  as  expressions  of  the  will  to  take  the  walk, 
and  they  are  adjusted  to  the  end  consciously  held  in 
view.  That  attention  is  not  fixed  upon  the  individual 
steps  does  not  remove  them  from  the  sphere  of  the 
voluntary,  in  a  proper  sense  of  the  words.  They  are 
expressions  of  the  man's  will,  even  if  they  be  not  the 
result  of  a  conscious  series  of  deliberations  and  decisions. 
Whether  we  shall  use  the  term  decision  in  connection 
with  the  single  step  is  rather  a  question  of  verbal  usage 
than  of  the  determination  of  fact.  We  have  seen 
that  decisions  shade  down  gradually,  from  those  quite 
unmistakable  and  characteristic,  to  occurrences  far  less 
characteristic  and  more  disputable.  The  consciousness 
of  deliberation  and  decision  does  not  disappear  ab- 
ruptly at  some  point  in  the  series.  It  fades  away,  as 
the  light  of  day  gradually  passes,  through  twilight,  into 
the  shades  of  night.  And  actions  not  directly  recognizable 
as  consciously  voluntary  may  be  obviously  under  vol- 
untary control.  They  weave  themselves,  with  actions 
more  palpably  voluntary  and  higher  in  the  scale,  into 
those  complicated  patterns  determined  by  the  conscious 
selection  of  an  end.  As  long  as  they  serve  their  purpose, 
and  require  no  effort,  they  may  remain  inconspicuous 


92  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

and  unconsidered.  But,  as  soon  as  a  check  is  met  with, 
attention  is  directed  upon  them  and  they  become  the 
subject   of    conscious    voluntary    controL 

38.  Ends  not  Consciously  Chosen,  —  In  the  above 
illustration  the  end  which  determines  the  character  of  a 
long  chain  of  actions  has  been  deliberately  chosen.  It  is 
a  consciously  selected  end.  When,  however,  we  con- 
template critical^  the  lives  of  our  fellow-men,  we  seem 
to  become  aware  of  the  fact  that  many  of  them  act  in 
unconsciousness  of  the  ultimate  end  upon  which  their 
actions  converge.  The  attention  is  taken  up  with  mi- 
nor decisions,  and  takes  no  note  of  the  permanent  trend 
of  the  will. 

Thus,  the  selfish  man  may  be  unaware  of  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  whole  series  of  choices  which  he  makes  in 
a  day;  the  malicious  man  may  not  realize  that  he  is 
animated  by  the  settled  purpose  to  injure  his  neigh- 
bors; one  may  be  law-abiding  without  ever  having  re- 
solved to  obey  the  laws  through  the  course  of  a  life. 
If  celled  upon  to  account  for  this  or  that  subordinate 
decision,  each  may  exhaust  his  ingenuity  in  assigning 
false  causes,  while  ignoring  the  permanent  attitude  of 
the  will  revealed  in  the  series  of  decisions  as  a  whole 
and  giving  them  what  consistency  they  possess. 

Hence,  the  choice  of  ends,  as  well  as  the  adoption  of 
means  to  the  attainment  of  ends,  may  reveal  itself  either 
in  conscious  deliberate  decisions,  or  in  the  working  of  ob- 
scure impulses  which  do  not  emerge  into  the  light.  Even 
in  tlic  latter  case,  we  have  not  to  do  with  what  is  wholly 
beyond  the  sphere  of  intelligent  voluntary  control.  The 
selfish  man  may  be  made  aware  that  he  is  selfish;  the 
malicious  man,  that  he  is  malicious;  and  each  may  de- 


THE    PERMANENT    WILL  93 

liberately   take   steps   to   remedy   the   defect  revealed. 

When  we  understand  the  word  "  will  "  in  the  broad 
sense  indicated  in  the  preceding  pages,  we  see  that  a  man's 
habits  may  justly  be  regarded  as  expressions  of  the  man's 
will.  That,  through  repetition,  his  actions  have  become 
almost  automatic  does  not  remove  them  from  the  sphere 
of  the  volitional.  That  he  does  not  clearly  see,  or  that 
he  misconceives,  the  significance  of  his  habits,  and  may 
acquiesce  in  them  even  though  they  be  injurious  to  him, 
does  not  make  them  the  less  willed,  so  long  as  he  follows 
them.  It  is  only  when  he  actively  endeavors  to  con- 
trol or  modify  a  habit  that  he  may  be  said  to  will  its 
opposite. 

39.  The  Choice  of  Ideals.  —  Nor  is  it  too  much  to 
bring  under  the  head  of  willing  the  attitudes  of  approval 
and  disapproval  taken  by  man  in  contemplating  certain 
occurrences,  actual  or  possible,  which  lie  beyond  the 
confines  of  the  field  within  which  he  can  exercise  control. 
The  field  of  control,  direct  and  indirect,  is  as  we  have 
seen  a  broad  one,  but  it  has  its  limits,  and  many  of  the 
things  he  would  like  to  see  accomplished  or  prevented 
lie  without  it. 

A  man's  will  may  be  set  upon  the  preservation  of 
his  health,  he  may  strive  to  attain  that  end,  and  circum- 
stances may  condemn  him  to  a  life  of  invalidism.  He 
would  be  healthy  if  he  could,  but  his  strivings  are  over- 
ruled. Or  he  may  earnestly  pursue  the  attainment  of 
wealth,  and  may  end  in  bankruptcy.  He  has  the  will 
to  be  rich,  but  that  will  is  frustrated. 

It  is  the  same  when  we  consider  his  attitude  toward 
the  decisions  and  actions  of  other  men.  By  mere  willing 
he  cannot  condition  another's  choice.     But  by  willing 


94  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

he  can  often  influence  indirectly  the  volitions  of  his 
fellows.  He  can  enlighten  or  misinform,  persuade  or 
threaten,  reward  or  punish.  In  many  ways  he  can  weight 
the  scale  of  his  neighbor's  mind.  But  such  influences 
are  not  all-powerful,  and  only  within  limits  can  we  bend 
other  wills  to  follow  a  course  prescribed  for  them  by 
our  own. 

Nevertheless,  even  beyond  those  limits,  the  attitude 
of  a  man's  mind  toward  the  actions  of  his  neighbor  may 
be  a  volitional  one.  His  will  may  be  for  them  or  against 
them;  he  may  approve  or  disapprove,  command  or  pro- 
hibit. We  know  quite  well  that  commands  and  prohi- 
bitions laid  upon  children  and  servants  will  not  always 
be  effective,  yet  we  issue  general  commands  and  pro- 
hibitions, as  though  assuming  unlimited  control.  It  is 
quite  in  accordance  with  usage  to  speak  of  a  man  as 
willing  an  end,  even  where  it  is  clearly  recognized  that 
the  will  to  attain  does  not  guarantee  attainment.  The 
man  does  what  he  can;  could  he  do  more  he  would  do 
so;  in  his  helplessness  the  attitude  of  the  will  persists 
unchanged. 

It  is  obvious  that,  in  this  large  sense  of  the  word 
"  will,"  we  may  speak  of  a  man  as  continuing  to  will 
or  to  approve  a  given  end,  even  when  he  is  not  willing 
or  approving  anything,  in  a  narrower  sense  of  the  words, 
at  this  or  that  moment.  We  speak  of  a  man  as  inspired 
by  the  permanent  will  to  be  rich,  although  at  many 
times  during  the  day,  and  certainly  during  his  hours  of 
sleep,  no  act  of  volition  with  such  an  end  in  view  has 
an  actual  existence. 

No  man  always  thinks  of  the  permanent  ends  which 
he  has  selected  as  controls  to  his  actions.     They  are 


THE    PERMANENT    WILL  95 

selected,  they  pass  from  his  mind,  and,  when  they  recur 
to  it  again,  the  selection  is  reaffirmed.  But,  whether  he 
is  actually  thinking  about  the  ends  in  question  or  not, 
the  settled  trend  of  his  will  is  expressed  in  them. 

This  settled  trend  of  the  will,  even  when  scarcely 
recognized  by  the  man  himself,  may  be  vastly  more 
significant  than  the  passing  individual  decision,  although 
the  latter  be  accompanied  by  clear  consciousness.  In 
certain  cases  the  latter  is  a  true  exponent  of  character, 
but  not  infrequently  it  is  not.  It  may  be  the  result  of 
a  whim,  of  an  irrational  impulse  little  congruous  with 
a  man's  nature.  It  may  be  the  outcome  of  some  mis- 
conception and  in  contradiction  with  what  the  man  would 
will,  if  enlightened.  The  individual  volition  appears 
only  to  disappear ;  it  may  leave  no  apparent  trace.  The 
permanent  will  indicates  a  habit  of  mind,  a  way  of 
acting,  which  may  be  expected  to  make  its  influence 
felt  with  the  persistency  of  that  which  exerts  a  steady 
pressure.  To  refuse  it  the  name  of  will  seems  arbitrary 
and  unjustifiable. 

In  the  permanent  will  is  expressed  the  character  of  the 
man.  This  character  is  reflected  in  his  ideals.  Some- 
times ideals  are  clearly  recognized  and  deliberately 
chosen.  Sometimes  a  man  is  little  aware  of  the  nature 
of  the  ideals  which  control  his  strivings.  He  may  be 
said  to  choose,  but  to  choose  more  or  less  blindly.  But, 
whether  he  chooses  with  clear  vision  or  without  it,  he 
may  choose  well  or  ill. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  OBJECT  IN  DESIRE  AND  WILL 

40.  The  Object  as  End  to  be  Realized.  —  The  expres- 
sion "  the  object  before  the  mind  in  desiring  and  willing  " 
is  not  free  from  ambiguity.  It  may  be  used  in  referring 
to  the  idea,  the  psychic  fact,  which  is  present  when  one 
desires  or  wills.  Or  it  may  be  used  to  indicate  the 
future  fact  which  is  the  realization  of  the  idea,  that 
which  the  idea  points  to  as  its  end. 

The  idea  and  the  end  are,  of  course,  not  identical, 
but  they  are  related.  The  idea  mirrors  the  end,  fore- 
shadows it.  In  the  attempt  to  explain  a  voluntary  act 
we  may  turn  either  to  the  one  or  to  the  other;  we 
may  regard  the  idea  as  the  efficient  cause  which  has 
resulted  in  the  act,  or  we  may  account  for  the  act  by 
pointing  out  the  end  it  was  purposed  to  attain.  There 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  recognize  both  the  effi- 
cient cause  and  the  final  cause,  or  end. 

The  latter  has  been  the  subject  of  more  or  less  mysti- 
fication. How,  it  has  been  asked,  can  an  end,  which 
does  not,  as  yet,  exist,  be  a  cause  which  sets  in  motion 
the  apparatus  that  brings  about  its  own  existence?^ 

The  difficulty  is  a  gratuitous  one.  It  lies  in  the 
confusion  of  the  final  cause  or  end,  with  the  efficient 
cause.  When  we  realize  that  the  expression  "  final  cause  " 

1  See  Janet,  Les  Causes  Finales,  Paris,  1901,  p.  1,  ff. 

96 


THE    OBJECT    IN    DESIRE    AND    WILL       97 

means  simply  that  which  is  purposed,  or  accepted 
as  an  end,  objections  to  it  fall  away.  That,  in  desire 
and  will,  in  all  their  higher  manifestations,  at  least, 
there  is  consciousness  of  an  end,  there  can  be  no  question. 

If  we  attempt  to  give  more  than  a  vague  physical 
explanation  of  actions  due  to  blind  impulse,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  refer  to  the  idea,  the  psychic  fact  present,  as 
efficient  cause.  Not  so  when  we  are  concerned  with 
actions  of  a  higher  order.  We  constantly  refer  such 
actions  to  the  ends  they  have  in  view\  We  regard  them 
as  satisfactorily  explained  when  we  have  pointed  out 
the  end  upon  which  they  are  directed. 

To  the  moralist  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  to 
know  what  ends  men  actually  choose,  and  what  they 
may  be  induced  to  choose.  He  is  concerned  with  con- 
duct, which  is  intelligent  and  purposive  action.  Con- 
duct may  be  studied  without  entering  upon  an  investiga- 
tion of  the  efficient  causes,  whether  physical  or  mental, 
which  are  the  antecedents  of  action  of  any  kind.  Such 
matters  one  may  leave  to  the  physiologist  and  the  psy- 
chologist. 

Accordingly,  when  I  speak  of  "  the  object  "  in  desiring 
and  willing,  I  shall  use  the  word  to  indicate  the  end  held 
in  view,  that  toward  which  the  creature  desiring  or  will- 
ing strives. 

41.  Human  Nature  and  the  Objects  Chosen. — What 
objects  do  men  actually  desire  and  will  to  attain?  To 
give  a  detailed  account  of  them  appears  to  be  a  hopeless 
and  profitless  task. 

I  take  up  my  pen,  I  write,  I  turn  to  a  book;  I  look 
at  my  watch,  change  my  position,  stretch,  walk  up  and 
down,  speak  to  some  one  who  is  present,  smile  or  give 


98  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

vent  to  irritation;  I  sit  down  to  a  meal,  eat  of  this  dish 
rather  than  of  that,  go  out  to  visit  a  place  of  amuse- 
ment, respond  to  the  appeal  of  the  beggar  in  the  street 
—  in  short,  I  fill  my  day  with  a  thousand  actions  the 
most  diverse,  which  follow  each  other  without  inter- 
mission. 

Each  of  these  actions  may  be  the  object  of  desire 
and  will.  No  novel,  however  realistic,  however  prolix 
in  its  descriptions,  can  give  us  more  than  the  barest 
outlines  of  the  course  of  life  followed  by  the  personages 
it  attempts  to  portray.  A  touch  here,  a  touch  there, 
and  a  character  is  indicated.  No  more,  for  more  would 
be  intolerable. 

It  is  significant,  however,  that  the  few  points  touched 
upon  can  serve  to  give  an  idea  of  a  character.  Not- 
withstanding their  diversity,  volitions  fall  into  classes; 
it  is  quite  possible  to  indicate  in  a  general  way  the  kind 
of  choices  a  given  creature  may  be  impelled  to  make. 
They  are  a  revelation  of  the  nature  of  the  creature 
choosing.  That  beings  differing  in  their  nature  should 
be  impelled  to  different  courses  of  action  can  surprise 
no  one.  Cats  have  no  temptation  to  wander  in  herds; 
the  exhibition  of  pugnacity  in  a  sheep  would  strike  us 
with   wonder. 

To  every  kind  of  creature  its  nature;  and,  although 
individuals  within  a  kind  differ  more  or  less  from  one 
another,  wo  look  for  approximation  to  a  type.  So  it 
is  with  man.  The  expression  "  human  nature,"  so  much 
in  the  mouths  of  certain  moralists  ancient  and  modern, 
although  somewhat  vague,  is  not  without  its  significance. 
To  it  we  refer  in  passing  a  judgment  upon  individual 
human  beings,  and  we  regard  as  abnormal  those  who 
vary   widely   from  the  type. 


THE    OBJECT    IN    DESIRE    AND    WILL       99 

42.  The  Instincts  and  Impulses  of  Man.  —  In  sketch- 
ing for  us  the  outlines  of  this  distinctively  human  nature, 
the  psychologist  proceeds  to  an  enumeration  of  the  fun- 
damental instincts  and  general  innate  tendencies  of  man, 
and  he  draws  up  a  list  of  the  emotions  which  correspond 
to  them.  He  mentions  the  instincts  of  flight,  repulsion, 
curiosity,  pugnacity,  self-abasement,  self-assertion,  the 
parental  instinct,  the  instinct  of  sex,  the  instinct  for 
food,  that  for  acquisition,  etc.  He  points  out  that  man 
is  by  nature  open  to  sympathy,  is  suggestible,  and  has 
the  impulse  to  play.  In  such  instincts  and  inborn  gen- 
eral tendencies,  blending  and  reinforcing  or  opposing 
and  inhibiting  one  another,  he  sees  the  forces  which  give 
their  direction  to  desire  and  will;  which  select,  out  of 
all  possible  objects,  those  which  are  to  become  objects 
for  man. 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  discuss  the  nature  of  in- 
stinct, to  distinguish  between  an  instinct  and  a  more 
general  inborn  tendency,  or  to  attempt  a  complete  list 
of  the  instincts  and  inborn  tendencies  of  man.  Nor  need 
I  ask  whether  every  choice  made  by  a  human  being  can 
be  traced,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  one  or  more  of  the 
instincts  and  other  tendencies  given  in  the  above  or 
in  any  similar  list.  In  explaining  the  individual  choices 
which  men  make,  or  the  desires  to  which  they  are  sub- 
ject, there  is  much  scope  for  the  ingenuity  of  the  psy- 
chologist. 

But  of  the  significance  for  human  life  of  the  impulses 
mentioned  there  can  be  no  question.  "What  would  the 
life  of  a  man  be  if  he  could  feel  no  fear  or  repulsion? 
Could  there  be  a  development  of  knowledge  in  the  ab- 
sence of  curiosity?     How  long  would  the  race  endure 


100  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

if  the  parental  instinct  were  wholly  lacking?  What 
would  become  of  a  man  who  never  desired  food?  Could 
a  human  society  of  any  sort  exist  if  there  were  no 
sympathy  or  tender  feeling,  no  impulse  to  seek  the  com- 
pany of  other  men?  It  is  men,  such  as  they  are,  endowed 
with  the  qualities  which  distinguish  man,  who  associate 
themselves  into  communities,  and  the  customs  and  laws 
of  such  reflect  the  fundamental  impulses  in  which  they 
had  their  origin. 

43.  The  Study  of  Man's  Instincts  Important.  —  That 
a  careful  study  of  human  nature  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  the  moralist  is  palpable.  He  must  not 
prescribe  for  man  a  rule  of  conduct  which  it  is  not  in 
man  to  follow.  He  must  not  set  before  him,  as  induce- 
ments to  actions,  objects  which  it  is  impossible  for  him 
to  desire  and,  hence,  to  choose. 

To  be  sure,  the  main  traits  of  human  nature  were 
pretty  well  recognized  many  centuries  before  the  modern 
science  of  psychology  had  its  birth.  Had  they  not  been, 
man  could  not  have  had  rational  dealings  with  his 
fellow-man;  could  not  effectively  have  persuaded  and 
threatened,  rewarded  and  punished,  and,  in  short,  set  in 
motion  all  the  machinery  which  is  at  the  service  of  one 
man  when  he  wants  to  influence  the  conduct  of  another. 
But  moralists  ancient  and  modern  have  made  serious 
blunders  tlirough  an  imperfect  understanding  of  the  im- 
pulses natural  to  man;  and  the  modern  psychologist, 
without  claiming  to  be  a  wholly  original  or  an  infallible 
guide,  may  be  of  no  little  service  in  helping  us  to  detect 
them. 

Thus,  it  was  possible  for  as  shrewd  an  observer  of 
man  as  Aristotle  to  explain  the  affection  of  a  man  for 


THE    OBJECT    IN    DESIRE    AND    WILL     101 

his  child  by  regarding  it  as  an  extension  of  self-love, 
the  child  being,  in  a  sense,  a  part  of  the  parent.^  Aris- 
totle's quaint  explanation  of  the  fact  that  maternal 
affection  is  apt  to  be  stronger  than  paternal  is  an  error 
of  a  kindred  nature.^  And  the  ancient  egoists,*  in  setting 
before  man  their  selfish  and  anti-social  ideal  of  human 
conduct,  made  their  appeal,  not  to  the  whole  man,  but 
only  to  a  part  of  him.  The  normal  man,  whether  savage 
or  civilized,  whether  ancient  or  modern,  cannot  desire 
a  life  filled  only  with  the  objects  which  they  set  before 
him.  Nor  is  the  modern  moralist,  or  as  he  prefers  to 
style  himself,  "  immoralist,"  Nietzsche,^  guilty  of  less 
gross  a  blunder.  He  rails  at  morality  as  commonly  un- 
derstood, calling  it  "  the  morality  of  the  herd,"  and  he 
recommends  isolation,  the  repression  of  sympathy,  and 
a  contempt  for  one's  fellows.  To  be  sure,  the  "  herd  " 
is  a  scornful,  rhetorical  expression,  —  what  Bentham 
would  have  called  a  "  question-begging  epithet,"  —  for 
men  do  not,  properly  speaking,  live  in  herds;  but  they 
do  normally  live  in  human  societies  of  some  sort,  and 
they  have  the  instincts  and  impulses  which  fit  them  to 
do  so.  The  repression  of  such  instincts  and  impulses 
does  violence  to  their  nature,  and  he  who  advocates 
other  than  a  social  morality  should  advocate  it  for  some 
creature  other  than  man.  Man  is  a  social  creature,  and, 
among  the  objects  of  his  desire  and  will,  he  must  give  a 
prominent  place  to  some  which  are  distinctively  social. 

2  Ethics,  Book  VIII,  chapter  xii. 

2  Ibid.,  Book  IX,  chapter  vii. 

4  See  the  answer  to  Epicurus  in  the  Discourses  oj  EpictetxLS, 
translated  by  Long,  London,   1890,  pp.  69-70. 

->  A  sketch  of  Nietzsche's  doctrine  is  given  later,  see  chapter 
xxix. 


102  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

44.  The  Bewildering  Multiplicity  of  the  Objects  of 
Desire,  and  the  Effort  to  Find  an  Underlying  Unity.  — 
The  mere  enumeration  of  the  characteristics  which  have 
been  adduced  as  instincts  or  fundamental  innate  tend- 
encies of  man  is  enough  to  reveal  the  truth  that  man  is 
not  merely  the  subject  of  desire,  but  of  desires;  that  is 
to  say,  his  impulses  are  directed  upon  objects  widely 
different  from  each  other. 

And  when  we  call  to  mind  that  the  concepts  of  the 
instincts  and  fundamental  tendencies  of  human  nature, 
as  thus  enumerated,  are  products  of  abstraction  and  gen- 
eralization —  are  general  notions  gathered  from  the 
numberless  concrete  instances  of  desire  and  will  furnished 
by  our  observation  —  we  are  forced  to  realize  that  the 
objects  which  individual  men  set  before  themselves  in 
desiring  and  willing  are  really  endlessly  varied. 

All  men  are  not  equally  moved  by  fear,  anger,  repul- 
sion, tender  emotion,  or  sympathy.  Nor  do  all  men 
find  the  same  things  the  objects  of  their  fear,  anger, 
repulsion,  and  the  rest.  The  desire  for  food  is  an  ab- 
straction; in  the  concrete,  this  man  eagerly  accepts  an 
oyster,  and  that  one  turns  from  it  in  disgust.  In  order 
to  deal  successfully  with  our  fellow-man,  we  must  not 
merely  know  man.    We  must  know  men. 

Furthermore,  not  only  do  individuals  set  their  affec- 
tions upon  different  objects,  but  the  same  person  at 
different  stages  of  his  development  desires  widely  dif- 
ferent things.  What  is  a  temptation  to  the  boy  has 
no  attraction  for  the  man.  What  fills  the  savage  with 
longings  may  inspire  in  the  product  of  a  high  civili- 
zation no  other  feeling  than  repulsion. 

And  what  is  true  of  the  individual  is  true  of  men  in  the 


THE    OBJECT    IN    DESIRE    AND    WILL     103 

mass.  The  objects  of  desire  and  of  endeavor  are  not 
the  same  in  communities  of  all  orders.  Each  kind  of 
man  has  its  own  nature,  which  differs  in  some  respects 
from  that  of  each  other  kind,  and  dictates  what  shall 
be,  for  this  or  that  man,  an  object  of  desire  and  will. 
No  two  men  desire  precisely  the  same  thing  in  all 
particulars.  Yet  each  is  a  man,  and  is  endowed  with 
the  usual  complement  of  human  instincts. 

The  process  of  abstraction  and  generalization  which 
resulted  in  the  above-mentioned  list  of  the  elements 
w^hich  enter  into  the  constitution  of  human  nature  is, 
nevertheless,  not  without  its  uses.  It  serves  to  order, 
to  some  extent,  at  least,  the  bewildering  variety  of  the 
phenomena  presented  to  us  when  we  view  the  broad 
field  of  the  desires  and  volitions  of  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  men.  Men's  choices  fall  into  kinds;  there  is  sim- 
iliarity  in  difference.  We  do  not  approach  an  unknown 
man  with  the  feeling  that  he  is  a  wholly  unknown  quan- 
tity. He  is,  at  least,  a  man,  and  we  know  something 
of  men.    We  have  soine  notion  how  to  go  at  him. 

But  the  ordering  of  the  motley  multiplicity  of  men's 
desires  by  a  reference  to  the  fundamental  instincts  of 
man  stops  far  short  of  a  complete  unification.  We  are 
left  with  a  number  of  distinct  and  apparently  irreducible 
impulses  and  tendencies  on  our  hands.  If  it  is  useful  to 
go  so  far,  may  it  not  be  much  more  useful  to  go  still 
farther? 

Aristotle  divided  things  eligible  into  those  eligible  in 
themselves  and  those  eligible  for  the  sake  of  something 
else.  How  it  would  illuminate  the  field  of  action,  if 
it  were  discovered  that  men  ultimately  desire  but  one 
thing,   and  choose  all  other  things   on   account  of  it! 


104  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

Would  the  discovery  not  facilitate  immensely  our  deal- 
ings with  our  fellows,  suggesting  new  possibilities  of 
control?  A  notorious  instance  of  the  attempt  to  con- 
jure away  the  bewildering  diversity  in  men's  desires  and 
choices  lies  in  the  selection  of  pleasure  as  the  one  thing 
eligible  in  itself,  the  unique  ultimate  object  of  human 
action.    Of  this  object  we  have,  so  far,  taken  no  account. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
INTENTION   AND    MOTIVE 

45.  Complex  Ends.  —  I  may  desire  to  clear  my  throat 
and  may  do  so.  The  action  is  a  trivial  one,  is  over  in 
a  moment,  and  is  forgotten.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
may  desire  to  spend  my  summer  on  the  sea-coast,  to 
grow  rich  in  business,  to  attain  to  high  social  position, 
or  to  satisfy  political  ambition. 

When  the  object  is  of  this  complicated  description, 
there  may  easily  be  elements  in  it  which,  considered 
alone,  I  should  not  desire  at  all. 

The  summer  on  the  New  Jersey  coast  may  make  for 
health.  But  it  may  entail  mosquitoes,  uncomfortable 
rooms,  unaccustomed  food,  the  lack  of  wonted  occupa- 
tions, and  a  distasteful  association  at  close  quarters  with 
neighbors  not  of  one's  choosing.  The  road  to  wealth  is 
an  arduous  one.  The  envied  social  station  may  imply 
the  swallowing  of  many  rebuffs.  The  way  of  the  poli- 
tician is  hard. 

One  may  desire,  on  the  whole,  one  of  these  objects, 
or  a  thousand  like  them;  but  there  are,  obviously,  many 
things  comprised  in  the  whole,  or  unavoidably  bound 
up  with  it,  that  cannot  attract,  and  are  not  eligible  for 
their  own  sake. 

46.  Intention.  —  An  object  chosen  and  realized  may 
bring  in  its  train  an  indefinite  series  of  consequences 
foreseen  or  unforeseen. 

105 


106  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

The  striking  of  a  match  to  liglit  a  candle  maj'  result 
in  an  unforeseen  and  disastrous  conflagration.  The  over- 
mastering desire  to  grow  rich  may  have  its  fruit  in  an 
excessive  application  to  business,  the  neglect  of  the  fam- 
ily and  of  the  duties  of  citizenship,  and  in  hard  and, 
perhaps,  unscrupulous  dealings.  These  things  may  be 
foreseen  and  accepted  as  natural  accompaniments  of 
the  end  chosen.  But  there  may  also  be  entailed  shattered 
health,  overwhelming  anxieties,  and  the  distress  of  see- 
ing one's  sons,  brought  up  in  luxury  and  without  incen- 
tive to  effort,  victims  to  the  dangers  which  menace  the 
idle  rich. 

Whether  such  consequences  might  have  been  foreseen 
and  provided  against  or  not,  it  is  true  that  they  are 
frequently  not  foreseen  with  clearness.  They  certainly 
form  no  part  of  the  intention  of  the  man  who  bends 
his  energies  to  the  attainment  of  wealth.  He  does  not 
deliberately  intend  to  injure  his  health,  to  lose  the  affec- 
tion of  his  family,  to  leave  behind  him  degenerate  chil- 
dren.   He  does  intend  to  get  rich,  if  he  can. 

How  many  of  the  elements  contained  in  the  object 
chosen,  or  so  bound  up  with  it  that  they  must  be  ac- 
cepted along  with  it,  may  fairly  be  said  to  fall  within 
the  intention  of  the  chooser?  There  may  easily  be 
dispute  touching  the  latitude  with  which  the  word  inten- 
tion may  be  used.  Some  things  a  man  sees  clearly  to 
be  in.separably  connected  with  the  object  of  his  choice; 
some  he  is  less  conscious  of ;  some  he  overlooks  altogether. 
It  does  not  seem  unwarranted  to  maintain  that  the  first 
of  the  three  classes  of  things,  at  least,  may  be  said  to 
be  intended.  When  Dr.  Katzenberger,  in  his  desire  to 
get  across  the  road  without  sinking  in  the  mire,  used 


INTENTION    AND    MOTIVE  107 

as  a  stepping-stone  his  old  servant  Flex,  who  had  fallen 
down,  his  complete  intention  was  not  simply  to  cross 
the  road  unmuddied.  It  was  to  cross  the  road  unmud- 
died  by  stepping  on  Flex. 

Evidently  the  intention  —  the  whole  object  — gives 
some  revelation  of  the  character  of  a  man.  IMany  men 
may  will  to  avoid  the  mud;  but  not  all  of  these  can 
will  to  avoid  it  by  stepping  upon  a  fellow-man. 

47.  Motive.  —  The  stepping  upon  a  fellow-man  with 
whom  one  is  on  good  terms  can  scarcely  be  regarded 
as  a  thing  desirable  in  itself.  If  it  is  desired,  it  is  because 
of  the  complex  in  which  it  is  an  element.  Some  other 
element  or  elements  may  exert  the  whole  attractive  force 
which  moves  desire  and  will.  In  other  words,  some 
things  are  chosen  for  the  sake  of  others. 

When  we  have  discovered  that  for  the  sake  of  which 
any  object  is  chosen,  we  have  come  upon  the  Motive. 
The  intention  may  be  said  to  embrace  the  whole  object 
as  foreseen.  The  motive  embraces  only  a  part  of  it,  but 
the  vital  part,  the  part  without  which  the  object  would 
not  be  desired  and  willed. 

48.  Ethical  Significance  of  Intention  and  Motive. — 
There  has  been  much  dispute  among  moralists  as  to  the 
ethical  significance  of  intention  and  motive.  Bentham 
maintains  that  "  from  one  and  the  same  motive,  and 
from  every  kind  of  motive,  may  proceed  actions  that 
are  good,  others  that  are  bad,  and  others  that  are  in- 
different."    He  gives  the  following  illustration:^ 

"1.  A  boy,  in  order  to  divert  himself,  reads  an  in- 
spiring book;  the  motive  is  accounted,  perhaps,  a  good 
one;  at  any  rate,  not  a  bad  one.     2.     He  sets  his  top 

^  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  x.  §  3. 


108  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

a-spinning:  the  motive  is  deemed  at  any  rate  not  a  bad 
one.  3.  He  sets  loose  a  mad  ox  among  a  crowd:  his 
motive  is  now,  perhaps,  termed  an  abominable  one.  Yet 
in  all  three  cases  the  motive  may  be  the  very  same:  it 
may  be  neither  more  nor  less  than  curiosity." 

In  criticizing  this  citation  I  must  point  out  that  curi- 
osity is  not,  properly  speaking,  an  object  of  choice  at 
all.  I  have  used  the  word  "  object  "  to  indicate  w^hat  is 
chosen,  not  to  indicate  the  psychic  fact  present  at  the 
time  of  the  choice.  And  I  have  said  that  the  motive  is 
the  vital  part  of  the  object. 

Hence  curiosity  should  not  be  called  the  motive.  No 
man  chooses  curiosity  as  an  object,  either  in  the  abstract 
or  in  the  concrete.  Curiosity  is  a  fundamental  impulse 
of  human  nature;  we  may  elect  to  satisfy  the  impulse 
in  any  given  instance;  in  other  words,  we  may  choose 
the  appropriate  object. 

In  the  case  of  the  boy  letting  loose  the  bull  in  the 
crowd,  the  object  is  to  see  what  will  happen  under  the 
given  circumstances.  This  is  what  appeals  to  the  boy. 
Something  else  might  have  appealed  to  him  in  performing 
the  action.  He  might  have  had  the  deliberate  wish  to 
injure  certain  persons  present  against  whom  he  harbored 
resentment.  Or  his  sympathies  might  have  been  with 
the  bull,  which  had  been  the  victim  of  bad  treatment, 
and  to  which  he  wished  to  grant  its  liberty.  Were  the 
crowd  in  question  a  band  of  ruffians  intent  upon  lynching, 
he  might  have  been  moved  by  the  desire  to  assist,  in  a 
somewhat  irregular  way,  in  the  reestablishment  of  law 
and  order.  But  even  if  his  real  object  is  only  to  see 
what  will  happen,  there  is  no  reason  to  put  it  on  a  par 
with  the  object  in  view  when  a  boy  spins  a  top.    "  To 


INTENTIOX    AND    MOTIVE  109 

see  what  will  happen  "  is  the  vaguest  of  phrases,  and 
covers  a  multitude  of  disparate  objects.  He  who  does 
things  to  see  what  will  happen  has,  at  least,  a  very  gen- 
eral knowledge  of  the  kind  of  thing  likely  to  happen, 
if  a  given  experiment  is  made.  A  boy  does  not  hold  his 
finger  in  the  candle-flame  to  see  what  will  happen.  He 
who  does  things  to  see  what  will  happen,  in  really  com- 
plete ignorance  of  what  is  likely  to  happen,  may  be  set 
down  as  too  much  of  a  fool  to  be  the  subject  of  moral 
judgments. 

It  is  obvious  that  an  act  may  be  done  with  many 
different  objects  in  view  —  I  mean  real  objects,  motives. 
I  give  money  to  a  beggar  whose  case  is  one  to  inspire 
pity.  My  motive,  my  "  vital  "  object,  may  be  to  relieve 
the  man.  But  it  may  equally  well  be  to  get  rid  of 
him,  to  gratify  my  self-feeling  by  becoming  the  dis- 
penser of  bounty,  or  to  inspire  admiration  in  the  on- 
looker. The  intention,  as  I  have  used  the  word  above, 
is  to  relieve  the  beggar,  with  such  consequences  of  the 
act  as  may  be  foreseen  at  the  time.  Within  the  limits 
of  this  intention,  the  motive  may  vary  widely,  and 
may,  in  a  given  instance,  be  either  admirable  or  con- 
temptible. 

It  may  be  claimed,  in  answer  to  this,  that  the  real 
intention  is,  in  every  case,  what  I  have  called  the  motive; 
that,  in  the  first  case,  it  was  to  relieve  suffering;  in  the 
second,  to  get  rid  of  an  annoyance;  in  the  third  to 
satisfy  vanity;  in  the  fourth,  to  be  admired. 

The  word  "  intention,"  thus  used,  is  equivalent  to 
"  motive."  Popular  usage  gives  some  sanction  to  this 
confusion  of  the  words.  We  say  of  a  man  who  has  done 
a  questionable  act:     "  His  intentions  were  good,"  or, 


110  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

"  His  motives  were  good."  Still,  popular  usage  does  not 
always  regard  the  two  expressions  as  equivalent.  To 
revert  to  the  case  of  the  unhappy  Flex.  It  does  not 
seem  inappropriate  to  say  that  the  use  of  a  man  as  a 
stepping-stone  was  a  part  of  his  master's  intention.  It 
does  appear  inappropriate  to  call  it  the  motive  or  a 
part  of  the  motive  of  the  whole  transaction. 

Intention  and  motive  are  convenient  w^ords  to  desig- 
nate the  whole  object  chosen  and  the  part  of  the 
object  which  accounts  for  the  choiae  of  the  ^vhole. 
That  it  is  important  to  distinguish  between  the  two  is 
palpable. 

The  intention  gives  some  indication  of  character.  "We 
know  something  about  a  man  when  we  know  what  kinds 
of  objects  he  will  probably  set  before  himself  as  aims. 
But  we  know  more  when  we  know  why  he  chooses 
these  objects  rather  than  others;  when  we  can  analyze 
the  complex  and  can  discover  just  what  elements  in  it 
attract  him. 

With  an  increase  of  our  knowledge  comes  an  increased 
power  of  control.  Until  we  know  a  man's  motives,  we 
do  not  really  know  the  man;  and  until  we  know  the  man, 
our  efforts  to  influence  him  must  be  rather  blind. 

The  search  for  motives  appears  to  carry  us  in  the 
direction  of  the  systematization  and  simplification  of  the 
embarrassing  wealth  of  objects  which  are  actually  the 
goal  of  human  desires  and  volitions.  Man  may  desire 
a  boundless  variety  of  objects.  His  motives  in  desiring 
them  may,  conceivably,  be  comparatively  few. 

It  should  be  apparent  that  both  intention  and  motive 
have  ethical  significance.  We  have  our  opinion  of  men 
capable  of  harboring  certain  intentions.     But  we  rec- 


INTENTION    AND    MOTIVE  111 

ognize  that  some  men  may  harbor  them  with  better 
motives  than  others.  And  we  can  see  that  a  man's 
intention  may  be  bad,  and  yet  his  motive,  considered 
in  itself,  be  good.  How  we  are  to  rate  the  man,  morally, 
becomes  rather  a  nice  question. 


CHAPTER  XV 
FEELING  AS  MOTIVE 

49.  Feeling.^  —  Two  men  may  recognize  with  equal 
clearness  tlie  presence  of  a  danger.  That  recognition  may 
evoke  in  the  one  a  violent  emotion  of  fear,  and  in  the 
other  little  or  no  emotion.  Two  men  may  be  treated 
with  indignity.  The  one  fumes  with  rage;  the  other 
remains  calm.  It  is  well  recognized  that  men  may  be 
susceptible  to  emotion  in  general,  or  to  certain  specific 
emotions,  in  varying  degrees.  Knowledge  is  not  always 
accompanied  by  a  marked  manifestation  of  emotion. 
Thoughts  may  be  clear,  but  cold.  There  are,  however, 
natures  whose  intellectual  processes  are  steeped  in  emo- 
tion.   Such  men  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  agitation. 

Lists  of  the  emotions  which  correspond  to  the  instincts 
and  fundamental  impulses  of  man  have  been  dra\Mi  up. 
In  them  we  find  mentioned  fear,  disgust,  wonder,  anger, 
elation,  tender  feeling,  and  so  forth;  phenomena  which, 
by  earlier  writers,  were  classified  as  "  passions,"  and  to 
which  we  may  conveniently  give  the  name  "  feeling." 
We  constantly  speak  of  our  emotions  as  our  "  feelings," 
and  we  contrast  the  man  of  feeling  with  the  coldly  intel- 
lectual mind  in  which  emotion  is  at  a  minimum. 

But  it  is  not  alone  to  such  specific  emotions  as  those 
above-mentioned    that    we    apply    the    term    feeling. 

^  See  the  notes  on  this  chapter  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 

112 


FEELING    AS    MOTIVE  113 

Thoughts  are  agreeable  or  disagreeable,  pleasurable  or 
painful.  So  are  emotions.  The  agreeableness  or  dis- 
agreeableness,  pleasantness  or  painfulness,  which  are  the 
accompaniments  of  thoughts  and  emotions,  have  been 
called  by  modern  psychologists  their  feeling-tone.  It 
is  not  out  of  harmon\^  with  common  usage  to  give  them 
the  name  of  feelings.  In  so  doing  we  contrast  them  with 
knowledge  and  assimilate  them  to  emotion. 

Whether  every  sensation  and  every  thought  gives  rise 
to  an  emotion  of  some  sort  is  matter  for  dispute,  as  is 
also  the  question  whether  every  sensation,  thought  and 
emotion  is  tinged  with  some  degree  of  pleasurable  or 
painful  feeling.  In  the  absence  of  conclusive  evidence, 
it  is  open  to  us  to  assume  that  some  feeling  is  always 
present  where  there  is  mental  activity  of  any  kind.  The 
feeling  may  be  so  faint  and  evanescent  as  to  escape 
detection,  but  this  does  not  prove  that  it  is  absent. 

50.  Feeling  and  Action.  —  Emotions  and  feelings  of 
pleasure  and  pain  are  the  normal  accompaniments  of  the 
exercise  of  the  instincts  and  impulses  of  creatures  that 
desire  and  will.  Within  limits,  we  appear  to  be  able  to 
take  them  as  an  index  of  the  strength  of  the  desire  and 
the  vigor  of  the  effort  at  attainment. 

An  act  of  cruelty  is  perpetrated.  I  see  it,  and  it  leaves 
me,  perhaps,  cold  and  unmoved.  In  such  case,  it  is 
hardly  expected  of  me  that  I  should  take  energetic 
measures  to  have  the  evil-doer  punished.  The  man 
whose  face  flushes,  whose  brows  descend,  whose  teeth 
come  together,  whose  fists  clench,  whose  heart  beats 
thickly,  at  the  recognition  of  an  insult,  is,  as  a  rule,  the 
man  from  whom  we  look  for  vigorous  efforts  at  retali- 
ation.   The  apathetic  creature  who  feela  no  resentment 


114  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

is  usually  expected  to  swallow  the  indignity.  The  child 
who  jumps  for  joy  at  the  sight  of  a  new  doll  is  supposed  to 
desire  it  eagerly,  and  to  be  ready  to  make  efforts  to 
obtain  it. 

But  it  is  only  within  limits  that  this  relation  between 
feeling  and  action  holds.  Men  of  little  emotion  may  be 
resolute  and  prompt  to  action.  Their  desires,  as  evinced 
by  their  actions,  may  be  persistent  and  effective.  Nor 
need  the  individual  fix  his  choice  upon  the  particular 
object  that  arouses  in  him  the  most  feeling.  A  man  may 
see  his  fellow-creature  destitute,  and  may  shed  tears 
over  his  pitiable  lot.  But  he  will  not  bequeath  his 
money  to  him.  He  will  leave  it  to  his  son,  for  whom, 
perhaps,  he  has  no  respect  and  has  come  to  have  little 
affection.  And  he  may  leave  it  to  him  with  regret, 
knowing  that  it  will  be  dissipated  in  ways  which  he 
cannot  approve.  It  has  been  pointed  out  with  justice 
that  the  exercise  of  many  instincts  may  be  accompanied 
with  little  feeling ;  and  we  are  all  aware  of  the  fact  that, 
as  action  becomes  habitual,  emotion  tends  to  evaporate 
and  the  pleasure  of  effort  and  attainment  is  apt  to  be 
reduced  to  a  minimum. 

51.  Feeling  as  Object.  —  It  is  well  to  keep  in  mind 
the  distinction  between  feeling  as  a  psychic  fact  present 
in  the  mind  of  the  creature  desiring  and  willing,  and 
feeling  as  the  object  of  desire  and  will.  A  man  in 
a  rage  is  the  victim  of  a  storm  of  feeling.  The  thought 
of  the  injury  he  has  received  and  the  desire  for  retali- 
ation by  no  means  exhaust  the  contents  of  his  mind.  But 
the  passion  which  shakes  him  is  not  his  object;  that 
object  is  revengeful  action. 

Nevertheless,  feeling  may  be  made  the  object  of  desire 
and  will.    One  may  attend  a  religious  or  political  meet- 


FEELIXG    AS    MOTIVE  115 

ing  with  the  deliberate  view  of  arousing  in  one's  self 
certain  complex  emotions.  Poe's  gruesome  tales  are  read 
for  the  sake  of  the  thrill  which  is  produced  by  the  pe- 
rusal. Probably  tlie  desire  for  excitement,  for  the  expe- 
riencing of  certain  vivid  emotions,  has  no  little  to  do 
with  the  attraction  exercised  by  certain  criminal  pro- 
fessions. The  burglar  desires  the  booty,  but  he  may 
desire  something  more. 

Emotions  have,  as  we  have  seen,  their  "  tone "  of 
pleasure  or  pain.  They  are  agreeable  or  the  reverse, 
and  it  is  palpable  that  men  do  not,  as  a  rule,  deliberately 
make  them  the  object  of  desire  and  will  in  indifference 
to  the  fact  that  they  are  pleasant  or  are  painful.  We 
do  not  normally  wish  to  attain  to  states  of  mind  in 
which  remorse  plays  a  prominent  part;  we  do  not  aim 
to  revel  in  shame;  we  do  not  seek  to  be  haunted  with 
fear.  Pleasurable  emotions  are  desired,  where  desire  is 
set  on  emotions  at  all ;  and  painful  emotions  are  regarded 
by  the  mind  as  unwelcome  guests.  At  any  rate,  this 
appears  to  be  the  rule,  and  to  characterize  the  man 
whom  we  regard  as  normal. 

This  being  the  case,  it  seems  natural  to  ask  whether, 
when  we  embrace  the  intention  of  producing  in  ourselves 
a  given  emotion,  our  motive  may  not  be  narrower  in 
scope,  namely,  the  attainment  of  pleasure?  and,  when 
we  wish  to  rid  the  mind  of  any  emotion,  our  motii'c  may 
not  be  the  avoidance  of  pain? 

The  adoption  of  this  view  would  give  to  the  feelings 
of  pleasure  and  pain  a  unique  importance.  They  would 
be  accepted  as  the  only  ultimate  objects  of  desire  and 
will.  By  many  they  have  been  thus  accepted.  It  has 
been  insisted  that  objects  of  every  description  are  chosen 
only  as  they  arouse  some  feeling;  and  that  those  which 


116  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

promise  pleasant  feeling  are  sought  and  those  which  en- 
tail pain  are  avoided.  The  general  recognition  of  the 
primacy  of  pleasure  and  pain  over  our  other  feelings, 
over  the  specific  emotions  mentioned  above,  is  indicated 
by  the  fact  that  ethical  writers  of  eminence  sometimes 
make  pleasure  and  pain  synon^'mous  with  feeling  in 
general,  passing  over  other  feelings,  as  though  it  were 
not  important  for  the  moralist  to  take  them  into  con- 
sideration. The  dispute  whether  the  proper  course  for 
human  action  to  take  is  prescribed  by  reason  or  is  dic- 
tated by  feeling  often  resolves  itself  into  the  problem 
whether  we  should  be  guided  by  reason,  or  by  a  con- 
sideration of  pleasure  to  be  attained  or  pain  to  be  avoided. 

52.  Freedom  as  Object.  —  The  acceptance  of  pleasure 
and  pain  as  the  ultimate  motives  of  human  action  seems, 
at  first  sight,  to  be  of  inestimable  assistance  to  us  in 
threading  our  way  through  the  labyrinth  of  diverse 
choices  made  by  creatures  that  desire  and  will. 

But  only  at  first  sight.  Even  if  it  be  true  that  every 
creature  seeks  only  to  attain  pleasure  and  to  avoid  pain, 
and  uses  the  means  it  finds  to  hand  in  the  attainment 
of  these  ends,  the  endless  diversity  of  the  means  remains 
as  a  thing  to  reckon  with.  The  knowledge  that  all 
men  desire  pleasure  does  not  help  us  a  whit  in  dealing 
with  men,  unless  we  know  what  things  will  give  pleasure 
to  this  man  or  to  that.  All  men  may  desire  pleasure; 
but  it  remains  true  that  what  gives  pleasure  to  the 
spendthrift  gives  pain  to  the  miser;  what  appeals  to  the 
glutton  disgusts  a  man  of  refined  tastes.  If  all  men 
were  alike  and  precisely  alike,  and  if  their  natures  were 
very  simple  and  remained  unchanged,  the  problem  of 
the  distribution  of  pleasures  would  be  vastly  simplified. 


FEELING    AS    MOTIVE  117 

Whether  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  the  avoidance  of 
pain  may  be  regarded  as  the  only  ultimate  ends  proper 
to  man  will  be  discussed  later.^  Here,  it  is  important 
to  insist  that  so  general  a  formula  gives  us  little  useful 
information  touching  the  set  of  the  will  either  of  classes 
of  men  or  of  individuals.  This  we  can  attain  to  only  as 
a  result  of  the  study  of  the  complex  nature  of  man  as 
revealed  in  the  choices  which  he  actually  makes.  The 
ends  of  man  are  many  and  various;  some  of  these  ends 
are  accidental,  palpably  means  for  the  attainment  of 
other  ends  more  fundamental,  and  for  them  other  means 
of  attaining  the  same  ends  may  be  substituted.  But 
other  ends,  and  they  are  by  no  means  to  be  reduced 
to  a  single  class,  appear  to  belong  to  the  very  nature 
of  man.  In  seeking  them  he  is  giving  expression  to 
the  impulses  which  make  him  what  he  is. 

In  so  far  as  these  impulses  find  an  unimpeded  expres- 
sion the  man  is  free;  otherwise  he  is  under  restraint. 
Without  rendering  here  a  final  decision  upon  the  impor- 
tance of  the  role  played  in  human  life  by  pleasure  and 
pain,  one  feels  impelled  to  ask  the  question  whether 
the  goal  of  a  man's  endeavors  may  not  best  be  described 
as  freedomf  Not  freedom  in  the  abstract,  freedom  to 
do  anything  and  everything,  but  freedom  to  live  the  life 
appropriate  to  him  as  man,  and  as  a  man  of  a  given 
type.  That  this  freedom  is  limited  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
by  his  material  environment,  by  the  clashing  of  im- 
pulses within  himself,  by  the  conflict  of  his  desires 
with  the  will  of  the  social  organism  in  which  he  finds 
his  place,  is  sufficiently  palpable. 

2  See  chapter  xxv. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
RATIONALITY   AND    WILL 

53.  The  Irrational  Will.  —  As  dreams  do  not  consist 
of  an  insignificant  medley  of  elements  drawn  from  the 
experiences  of  waking  life,  but,  in  spite  of  their  fantastic 
character,  bear  some  semblance  of  ordered  reality,  so 
the  impulses  of  even  the  most  unintelligent  and  inconse- 
quent of  human  beings  are  not  wholly  chaotic,  but  differ 
only  in  the  degree  of  their  organization  from  those  of 
the  most  rational  and  far-seeing. 

Where  there  is  even  a  glimmer  of  intelligence,  ends 
are  recognized  and  means  to  their  attainment  are  chosen. 
Ends  are  compared,  and  the  preference  is  given  to  some 
over  others.  But,  with  all  this,  there  may  be  much 
incoherence  and  planlessness.  Men  can  live  somehow 
without  looking  far  into  the  future,  or  keeping  well  in 
mind  the  lessons  to  be  learned  from  the  past.  They  can 
manage  to  exist  in  the  face  of  no  little  short-sighted 
impulsiveness  and  inconsistency.  But  it  is  palpable  that 
they  cannot,  under  such  circumstances,  live  as  they  might 
live  were  they  more  truly  rational. 

The  individual  deficient  in  foresight  and  control  may, 
it  is  true,  be  carried  along  and  defended  from  disaster 
by  the  presence  of  these  qualities  in  the  greater  organism 
of  which  he  is  a  part.  The  infant  is  a  parasite  upon 
society ;  it  is  provided  for  independently  of  its  own  efforts. 

118 


RATIONALITY    AND    WILL  119 

The  child  would  soon  come  to  grief  were  its  ends  not 
chosen  by  others  and  its  conduct  kept  under  control. 
And  a  vast  number  of  persons  not  children  are  in  much 
the  same  position.  There  is  foresight  and  rational  pur- 
pose somewhere;  they  profit  by  it;  but  of  foresight  and 
rational  purpose  they  themselves  possess  but  a  modicum. 

Where  breadth  of  view  is  lacking,  where  the  future  is 
unforeseen  or  ignored  and  the  past  is  forgotten,  where 
desires  arise  and  impel  to  action  in  relative  independence 
of  one  another,  the  man  seeks  today  what  tomorrow  he 
rejects.  We  can  scarcely  say  that  the  man  chooses.  He 
is  the  scene  of  independent  choices,  varied  and  inconsist- 
ent. He  is  the  victim  of  caprice,  and  appears  to  us 
largely  the  creature  of  accident,  a  prey  to  the  impulse 
which  happens  to  be  in  his  mind  at  the  moment.  From 
such  a  man  we  cannot  look  for  an  adherence  to  distant 
aims,  and  the  marshalling  of  the  proper  means  to  their 
attainment.  He  cannot  count  upon  himself,  and  he  can- 
not be  counted  upon.  That  he  can  play  no  significant  role 
in  such  stable  organizations  as  the  state  and  church  is 
obvious.  His  desires  may  be  many  and  varied,  but  they 
converge  upon  no  one  end.  We  set  him  down  as  irra- 
tional. 

54.  One  View  of  Reason.  —  Concerning  the  part 
plaj^ed  by  reason  or  intelligence  in  the  active  life  of 
man  there  has  been  no  little  dispute. 

It  has  been  maintained,  on  the  one  hand,  that  reason 
or  intelligence  serves  its  whole  purpose  in  holding  before 
the  mind  all  its  impulses  and  desires,  revealing  their 
interrelations,  and  making  possible  an  enlightened  and 
deliberate  choice  from  among  them.  Where  the  horizon 
is  thus  extended  and  mental  clarity  reigns,  the  attention 


120  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

can  roam  unimpeded  over  the  whole  field,  consider  the 
objects  of  desire  in  their  true  relations  and  compare  them 
with  one  another.  Congruous  desires  can  reinforce  each 
other;  conflicting  desires  can  be  brought  face  to  face, 
and  the  one  or  the  other  can  deliberately  be  dismissed; 
fundamental  and  dominant  desires  may  assert  their  su- 
premacy, and  give  their  stamp  to  far-reaching  decisions 
which  exercise  a  control  over  minor  decisions  and  favor 
or  repress  a  multitude  of  desires  and  volitions. 

The  attainment  of  perfect  rationality  in  this  sense  is 
an  ideal  never  completely  realized.  No  man  can  hold 
before  his  mind  all  his  impulses  and  desires,  see  them  in 
their  true  relations  to  each  other,  and  come  to  a  decision 
which  will  do  complete  justice  to  all.  But  the  ideal  may 
be  approached. 

The  reason,  in  this  case,  resembles  the  presiding  officer 
of  a  deliberative  assembly,  who  insists  that  all  the  mem- 
bers shall  be  heard  from,  all  proposals  seriously  con- 
sidered, and  that  the  ultimate  decision  shall  justly 
represent  the  true  will  of  the  deliberative  body  as  a 
whole.  The  specious  but  fallacious  argument  is,  in  the 
debate,  revealed  in  its  true  nature;  the  obstinate  insist- 
ence of  the  individual  is  not  allowed  to  prevail ;  the  loud 
voice  is  recognized  to  be  a  loud  voice  and  nothing  more ; 
fugitive  gusts  of  passion  exhaust  themselves;  the  per- 
manent and  fundamental  will  of  the  assembly  is  revealed 
in  the  final  vote. 

It  is  claimed  that,  in  such  a  mind,  the  result  is  a  har- 
monization and  unification  of  the  multiplicity  of  the 
desires  and  purposes  which,  in  a  mind  less  rational,  jostle 
one  another  without  control,  and  refuse  to  fall  into  an 
ordered  system.    That  the  decisions  of  a  rational  mind 


RATIONALITY    AND    WILL  121 

reveal  both  a  unity  and  a  harmony  not  evinced  by  a 
mind  short-sighted  and  impulsive  cannot  be  denied.  But 
it  is  well  to  understand  clearly  what  is  meant  by  such 
unity  and  harmony. 

55.  Dominant  and  Subordinate  Desires.  —  Wherever 
a  group  of  desires  fall  into  a  system  and  work  together 
toward  a  common  end,  we  have  unity.  Such  a  system 
may  be  short-lived,  comparatively  poor  in  content,  and 
of  no  great  significance  for  a  man's  life  as  a  whole.  It 
may  come  into  competition  with  another  similar  system, 
and  be  displaced  by  it.  An  interest  that  has  dominated 
our  minds  for  a  time,  and  controlled  our  desires  and 
volitions,  may  readily  give  place  to  different  choices.  I 
may  successively  bend  all  my  energies  upon  the  winning 
of  a  game,  the  doing  of  a  successful  stroke  of  business, 
the  defeat  of  a  social  rival,  the  success  of  a  philanthropic 
undertaking.  There  is  no  normal  human  being  who 
does  not  exhibit  such  limited  volitional  units.  The  most 
idle  and  purposeless  of  vagrants,  the  most  scatter-brained 
school-boy,  the  most  volatile  coquette,  may,  for  a  time, 
be  dominated  by  some  desire  which  calls  into  its  service 
other  desires  and  thus  realizes  some  chosen  end. 

Such  volitional  units  do  not,  however,  go  far  toward 
unifying  the  efforts  of  a  life.  It  is  only  when  some 
dominant  and  deep-seated  desire,  oft  recurring,  not  easily 
displaced  by  others,  sweeps  into  its  train  the  other 
desires  of  a  man,  establishing  a  sovereignty  and  exacting 
subservience,  that  such  an  effect  is  accomplished.  Then 
the  lesser  units  fall  into  a  significant  relation  to  each 
other  as  constituent  elements  in  the  greater  unit.  The 
life,  as  such,  may  be  said  to  have  a  purpose;  it  strives 
toward  a  single  goal. 


122  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

Whatever  bears  upon  the  attainment  of  such  a  domi- 
nant purpose  may,  however  trivial  in  itself,  acquire  a 
vital  importance  and  be  eagerly  desired.  To  a  man  of 
mature  mind  there  can  be  little  interest  in  hitting  a 
small  ball  with  a  stick,  abstractly  considered.  Nor  is 
the  dropping  of  a  bit  of  paper  into  a  box  with  a  slit  in 
it  an  action  in  itself  calculated  to  stir  profound  emotion. 
But  if  the  hitting  of  the  ball  in  the  right  way  marks  the 
critical  point  in  winning  an  eagerly  contested  game  of 
golf,  the  interest  in  it  may  be  absorbing.  And  if  the 
bit  of  paper  is  an  offer  of  marriage  committed  to  the 
post,  the  hand  may  tremble  and  the  heart  leap  in  the 
breast.  A  dominant  desire  may  create  or  reinforce  other 
desires  to  a  degree  to  which  it  is  not  easy  to  set 
limits. 

56.  The  Harmonization  of  Desires.  —  And  it  may 
actively  repress  other  desires  or  cause  them  to  dwindle 
and  disappear.  A  man  possessed  by  a  devouring  ambi- 
tion may  resolutely  scorn  delights  to  which  he  would 
otherwise  be  keenly  susceptible,  or  he  may  simply  ignore 
them  without  effort.  The  attention,  fixed  upon  some 
chosen  end,  and  busied  with  the  means  to  its  attainment, 
may  leave  them  unheeded.  Finding  no  place  in  the 
volitional  pattern  that  occupies  the  mind,  they  are  cast 
aside  and  soon  forgotten. 

In  so  far,  hence,  as  the  desires  of  a  man  tend  to  fall 
thus  into  groups  converging  upon  a  single  end,  wo  find 
not  merely  unity  but  harmony.  The  volitional  pattern 
is  of  a  given  kind,  and  the  colors  which  enter  into  it 
are  selected. 

When,  however,  we  speak  of  the  desires  of  a  rational 
mind  as  harmonized,  we  do  not  mean  that  incompatible 


RATIOXALITY    AND    WILL  123 

desires  are  reconciled.  One  cannot  laugh  and  drink  at 
the  same  time,  nor  can  the  desire  for  luxurious  ease  be 
made  to  fall  upon  the  neck  of  the  desire  for  attainment 
through  strenuous  effort.  The  final  harmony  attained 
resembles  in  some  respects  the  peace  enforced  by  the 
violent  character  depicted  by  Mark  Twain,  who  would 
have  peace  at  any  price,  and  was  willing  to  sacrifice  to 
it  the  life  and  limb  of  the  opposing  party.  The  cessation 
of  strife  does  not  imply  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties 
to  a  contest;  nor  does  the  fact  that  a  life  is  controlled 
by  a  ruling  motive,  which  reinforces  or  calls  into  being 
certain  desires  and  robs  others  of  their  insistence,  imply 
that  by  any  device  all  the  desires  which  man  has,  still 
less  all  that  he,  as  a  human  being,  might  have,  can  find 
their  satisfaction.  Harmony  is  obtained  at  the  price  of 
the  suppression  of  many  desires;  but,  where  a  mind  is 
strongly  dominated  by  a  comprehensive  volitional  unit, 
the  price  may  be  paid  without  much  regret. 

57.  Varieties  of  Dominant  Ends.  —  Obviously,  the 
comprehensive  and  harmonious  volitional  complexes 
which  may  come  to  characterize  different  minds  may  be 
of  very  different  complexion.  Peace  of  mind,  the  bubble 
reputation,  the  amassing  of  a  fortune,  a  happy  domestic 
life,  humanitarian  effort,  the  perfecting  of  one's  char- 
acter —  each  may  become  the  controlling  end  which  fur- 
thers or  inhibits  individual  desires  and  emotions.  Or 
the  ends  may  be  such  as  to  appear  to  most  men  far  more 
insignificant.  To  the  collection  of  first  editions  or  the 
heaping  together  of  bric-a-brac  a  man  may  sacrifice  his 
financial  security  and  the  welfare  of  his  family.  Nat- 
urally, the  moralist  cannot  put  all  such  ends  upon  the 
same  level;  but,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  psycholo- 


124  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

gist,  the  processes  which  take  place  in  the  minds  thus 
unified  and  harmonized  are  essentially  the  same. 

58.  An  Objection  Answered.  —  To  the  position  that 
it  is  reason  or  intelligence  that  brings  about  this  unity 
and  harmony  an  objection  may  be  brought.  It  may  be 
claimed  that  breadth  of  information  and  clarity  of  vision 
are  quite  compatible  with  highly  inconsistent  action 
revealing  the  temporary  dominance  of  a  succession  of 
incongruous  desires. 

Video  meliora  proboque,  deteriora  sequor,  confessed 
the  Latin  poet.  Have  we  not  seen  men  of  the  highest 
intelligence,  gifted  with  foresight,  quite  capable  of 
grasping  the  relation  of  means  to  ends,  nevertheless 
subject  to  the  baleful  influence  of  momentary  desires 
which  drive  them  hither  and  thither  like  a  rudderless  bark 
at  the  mercy  of  the  wind  and  tide?  How  does  it  happen 
that  their  intelligence  does  not  help  them? 

To  this  we  may  answer  that  it  is  not  the  same  thing 
to  possess  intelligence  and  to  use  it.  One  may  be  sup- 
plied with  information  and  quite  capable  of  taking  long 
views  and  embracing  inclusive  ends  —  and  the  attention 
may  be  so  preoccupied  with  the  desire  of  the  moment, 
that  the  voices  of  others  are  stifled.  In  so  far  as  this 
is  the  case,  the  man  can  not,  at  the  time,  be  said  to  be 
reasonable  or  intelligent.  He  has  information,  and  acts 
as  if  he  were  ignorant;  his  choices  do  not  issue  as  a 
resultant  of  his  desires  as  a  whole;  there  is  no  resultant; 
the  single  desires  make  their  influence  felt  separately. 

To  be  sure,  an  insistent  and  oft-recurring  desire  may 
introduce  a  good  deal  of  unity  and  harmony  into  life, 
even  where  long  views  are  not  taken  and  there  is  little 
intelligence.     The  stupid  egoist  may  become  rather  a 


RATIONALITY    AND    WILL  125 

consistent  egoist,  and  increasingly  so  as  he  grows  older. 
His  desires  and  volitions  may  converge  upon  an  end  of 
which  he  is  very  imperfectly  conscious;  incompatible 
desires  may  come  to  be  repressed.  But  this  does  not 
refute  the  position  that,  when  reason  or  intelligence  is 
supreme,  the  attention  is  directed  upon  a  wide  range  of 
desires,  they  are  weighed  in  the  light  of  each  other,  and 
the  ultimate  decision  is  no  longer  blind,  but  fairly  ex- 
presses the  permanent  push  of  the  man's  nature.  Even 
where  a  desire  or  group  of  desires,  unilluminated  by 
intelligence,  seems  so  insistent  as  to  take  on  something 
of  this  character,  complete  unity  and  harmony  of  action 
may  be  lacking,  due  to  the  short-sightedness  of  the 
methods  employed  to  attain  to  the  chosen  goal.  Blind 
desires  may  easily  defeat  their  own  ends;  wealth  does 
not  necessarily  accumulate  in  proportion  to  a  man's 
miserliness;  the  ardent  but  unenlightened  philanthropist 
may  do  his  fellow-man  more  harm  than  good.  Long 
views  are  of  no  little  service  in  weeding  out  inconsistent 
actions  and  introducing  order  and  unity  into  life. 

59.  This  View  of  Reason  Misconceived.  —  In  the  above 
view  of  the  function  of  reason  or  intelligence  it  has  not 
been  represented  as  issuing  commands  to  perform  certain 
actions  rather  than  others,  nor  as  furnishing  motives  not 
in  some  way  related  to  the  impulses  and  desires  of  man. 
It  has  been  treated,  literally,  as  the  presiding  officer 
of  a  public  assembly,  who  insists  that  every  voice  shall 
be  heard;  that  all  proposals  shall  be  weighed  and  com- 
pared with  one  another;  that  the  consequences  of  all 
shall  be  clearly  foreseen.  Its  function  is  enlightenment; 
the  driving  force  which  impels  to  action  of  any  sort  has 
been  found  in  the  impulses  and  the  desires. 


126  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

It  is  possible  to  set  this  view  forth  in  terms  which 
make  it  highly  unpalatable. 

Thus  Hume,  who  has  a  weakness  for  shocking  the 
susceptibilities  of  the  conservative  and  the  sober-minded, 
startles  us  with  the  remark  that  "  Reason  is,  and  ought 
only  to  be,  the  slave  of  the  passions."  ^  This  doctrine, 
taken  as  the  average  reader  is  almost  inevitably  impelled 
to  take  it,  seems  worthy  of  instant  reprobation.  It  ap- 
pears to  degrade  the  rational  in  man  and  to  exalt  the 
blind  and  irrational. 

But  it  is  not  fair  to  the  doctrine  to  set  it  forth  in  such 
terms.  There  is  no  small  difference  between  random 
and  fugitive  desires  and  those  more  fundamental  desires 
that  express  truly  the  nature  of  a  man.  Desires  organ- 
ized and  harmonized  gain  great  strength,  and  are  enabled 
to  overcome  and  expel  from  the  mind  erratic  impulses, 
the  obedience  to  which  may  easily  be  followed  by  regret. 
Action  taken  without  a  clear  foresight  of  consequences, 
with  an  imperfect  conception  of  the  relation  of  means 
to  ends,  is  blind  and  irrational  action.  Reason,  as  bring- 
ing enlightenment,  as  making  possible  deliberation,  as 
turning  the  incoherent  clamors  of  a  mob  of  inconsistent 
desires  into  the  authoritative  voice  of  an  orderly  delib- 
erative assembly,  is  not  a  faculty  to  be  lightly  regarded. 

Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that,  neither  to  the  plain 
man,  nor  to  the  moralist,  do  desires  all  stand  upon  the 
same  level.  He  who  bends  his  intellectual  energies  to 
the  satisfaction  of  his  greed,  his  avarice,  his  longing  for 
revenge,  may  fairly  be  said  to  be  prostituting  his  mind 
to  the  service  of  passion.  But  is  it  a  proper  use  of 
language  to  describe  as  the  slave  of  his  passions  the 

1  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,  iv,  §  3. 


RATIONALITY    AND    WILL  127 

man  whose  thought  is  set  upon  the  enlightenment  of 
mankind,  the  alleviation  of  suffering,  the  service  of  a 
state,  the  attainment  of  a  noble  character?  Were  Socrates, 
St.  Francis,  Abraham  Lincoln,  Wilberforce,  Thomas  Hill 
Green,  the  slaves  of  their  passions?  Yet  these  men  were 
moved  by  certain  dominant  desires,  and  their  unswerv- 
ing pursuit  of  their  goal  was  made  possible  only  by 
the  reason  that  harmonized  their  lives  and  substituted 
deliberate  purpose  for  random  impulse. 

The  doctrine,  then,  that  the  reason  is  to  be  likened 
rather  to  the  presiding  officer  of  a  deliberative  assembly, 
concerned  only  to  give  every  voice  a  fair  hearing,  than 
to  a  legislator  issuing  commands  independently,  may  be 
so  stated  as  not  to  shock  the  sober-minded. 

And  the  doctrine  recommends  itself  in  showing  that 
reason  and  inclination  or  desire  are  not  enemies.  The 
possession  of  reason  must  lead  to  the  suppression  of 
some  desires  —  those  incompatible  with  a  comprehensive 
purpose  deliberately  embraced;  but  the  desires  and  the 
reason  or  intelligence  work  together  to  a  common  end. 
On  this  view,  it  is  not  the  rational  man  who  is  divided 
against  himself;  it  is  the  short-sighted,  the  impulsive, 
the  inconsistent,  the  irrational  man.  He  is  the  prey  of 
warring  desires  whose  strife  leads  to  no  permanent  peace 
under  the  guidance  of  reason. 

60.  Another  View  of  Reason.  —  To  certain  minds  this 
view  of  reason  as  the  arbiter  and  reconciler  of  man's 
impulses   and   desires   does   not   appeal. 

Thus,  Kant,  whose  doctrine  will  be  more  fully  con- 
sidered later,^  holds  that  man's  reason  promulgates  a 
law  which  takes  no  account  of  the  impulses  and  desires 

2  Chapter  xxix. 


128  THE    REALM    OF    ENDS 

of  man.  Thus,  also,  Henry  Sidgwick,  who  differs  from 
Kant  in  making  the  attainment  of  happiness  the  goal 
of  human  endeavor,  and  who,  consequently,  is  not 
tempted  to  disregard  the  desires  of  man,  yet  refers  to 
the  reason  independently  certain  maxims,  which  he  re- 
gards as  self-evident,  touching  our  own  good  and  the 
good  of  our  neighbor.^ 

There  are  certain  considerations  which  appear  to  favor 
the  view  that  the  reason  is  a  faculty  which  may  be 
regarded  as  an  independent  law-giver.  A  man  may  be 
possessed  of  great  intelligence ;  he  may  be  well-informed, 
acute  in  his  reasonings,  and  consistent  in  his  strivings 
to  attain  some  comprehensive  end,  which,  on  the  whole, 
appears  congruous  to  his  nature,  such  as  it  is.  Yet  we 
may  regard  him  as  highly  unreasonable.  Judged  by 
some  higher  standard  which  we  look  upon  as  approved 
by  reason,  he  is  found  to  fall  short.  Is  reason,  then, 
synonymous  with  intelligence?  Or  is  it  something  more 
—  the  source  of  an  ultimate  standard  of  action,  intui- 
tively known,  and  by  which  all  man's  actions  must  be 
judged?  Upon  this  question  light  will  be  thrown  in  the 
pages  following. 

3  The  Methods  oj  Ethics,  chapter  iii. 


PART  V 
THE   SOCIAL  WILL 


CHAPTER  XVII 
CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  SOCIAL  WILL 

61.  What  is  the  Social  Will?  — The  social  will  is  not 
a  mysterious  entity,  separate  and  distinct  from  all  indi- 
vidual wills.  It  is  their  resultant.  The  resultant  of  two 
or  more  physical  forces  is  a  force ;  it  has  a  character  and 
may  be  described.  The  resultant  of  individual  wills  in 
interaction  is  a  will  with  a  given  character  which  it  is 
of  no  small  importance  for  the  moralist  to  comprehend. 
This  will  presents  aspects  closely  analogous  to  those 
presented  by  the  will  of  the  individual. 

Thus,  to  begin  with,  a  community  of  men  may  be  said 
to  will  a  vast  number  of  things  which  have  never  been 
made  by  the  members  of  the  community  the  object  of 
conscious  reflection.  It  may  unthinkingly  move  along 
the  groove  made  for  it  by  tradition.  It  may  be  intel- 
lectually upon  so  low  a  plane  that  even  the  possibility 
of  acting  in  other  ways  does  not  occur  to  it.  Nevertheless, 
ways  of  action  thus  unthinkingly  pursued  cannot  prop- 
erly be  said  to  be  beyond  the  voluntary  control  of  the 
community.  A  new  situation  may  draw  attention  to  the 
fact  that  they  are  unsatisfactory,  lead  to  critical  exam- 
ination, to  inhibition,  to  deliberate  change.  Between  the 
passive  acceptance  of  actions  prescribed  by  tradition  and 
deliberate  conscious  choice  in  the  presence  of  recog- 
nized alternatives  there  is  no  clear  line  of  demarcation. 

131 


132 


THE    SOCIAL    WTLL 


Undo-  iht  pressure  of 
mal  iiftci^ase  of  ii.;   :  —  " . . 


as  c:  Ls .  - .  . 


1/1: 


MseI 


Eity  from  iis  leLnargy. 
-  - :  itsell  : .  i  •;  ~ 
Mimy  sei  out  i:~    :  :  -;  t 

jrerc.  ,".  :    :;  .  -  .i' 

1  ":   -  :_.   :        L-e  Tjo  11-: 
©i  "riaiiim-HTa  eTeulS,  it  hhi 

:t  maT  iram^  for  iic-T. 


.  1.-  -l:  ...^:i: :  :.,T::iditioiial 
1..:: ..iLS  which  sci:;t.;"  rank 
■._  -...-:  ..,;-  zte&n  passively 
r -i-  ::  -_  ..  iT;:_rt7ares  may, 
:  T  :        r  ; .       :is  insignifi- 

T.vriised  in  any  eon- 
:  1 7  :  ;  1    jr  ^own  in  amy 

.  "  -  -  i:  ..v,  at  tames,  reveal 
-  : : V :  7 •:: 7 1  :: ; ■  :„  _  _ _  :  onsciove 
:  ". -r  ^t;  ::_.:75  inziestab- 
::  It-  rirZ-iv;  IT  a  diminu- 
iT  awi^.T  i  ::.:„.: ve  commn- 
:.  \.:.:lz  :'.   ':    l..  'liiT  its  habits 


:;i:'--"  -i  ^  may  il":  :  ^ ,  i 
:-  :_  i:-t:  ::  life.  A  civilized 
:i     _-  :i.  litat,  in  ':.-.    ::::-t 

: ::.  r  :.  t  i-essary  for  it  to  dis- 
T    .-  :..:■;    :  i;::.i:  natitm; 

t:.  .;   L-:~'       -      -    ;:  ,      -   -    -        ,:        :.rW   form  of 

"jc  jue. 

^  -:    as  in  tiie  ease  of  iJbe  indivi'dnal,  so  in  that  of 

miinitv,  the  teodaicy  to  fall  a^in  into  a  mfc  is 

La'WB,  once  enacted,  Iraid  a  passive 

ii&.'  'It  '  ^  -,  even  wfoen  tiaey  no  kmgier  serve 

-       "  -    -    , .,  intended  to  serve.    Tbe  mdepeor- 

-^  -'  ' :  L  revealed  in  the  adc^ition 

Ci/i  Ijt  :   :      ziagaeaofos  in  tlirar  main- 

"  '   It     '  I  1  as  Tiraan  individoa],  falls 


CHL-IKACTERISTIC:^    OF    SOCIAL    WILL        133 

into  hih::;.  :-i--  '.-^  comr  :  -  ::  ...-  -^i.:..:::.::..,  -_.:  "'._: 
was  wrought  out  by  Mm: ri     s  .     :  :     _     l.       l-     :    - 
;    :     ::.^      Pa^ve  acceptiuice  of  the  tr:     -  ::  _   _ 

wins  the  day  and  becomes  a  ruling  factor  in  action.^ 

This  tendency  to  mechanization  should  not  surprise 
us,  for  we  meet  with  the  phenomoion  everywtrri  Z..-. 
man  who  says,  "  Good-by  "  today  does  not  mean  "  God 
be  with  thee,"  and  the  "  Griiss  Dich  Gott "  of  the  Bava- 
rian peasant  is  very  prop^ly  translated  by  the  American 
child  as  '  Hallo.''  The  traditional  tends  to  lose  or  to 
alter  its  meanii^,  but  it  continues  to  serve  a  purpose.  A 
community  without  traditions,  without  sdttled  ways  of 
acting,  followed,  for  the  most  part,  without  much 
reflection,  would  te  in  '..r  portion  of  a  man  without 
habits  either  good  or  Human  life  as  we  know  it 

could  not  go  on  iqmn  such  a  basis.  The  rule  has,  at 
times,  its  inconveniences;  but  it  leads  somewhere,  at 
least;  whereas  he  wiio  plunges  into  the  uneiqilored  fcxr^t 
may  find  every  step  a  problem,  and  may  c(Mne  evoi  to 
doubt  whether  any  step  is  a  step  in  advance. 

62.  Social  Will  and  Social  HaMts^  —  Within  the  prov- 
ince of  the  social  will  fall  what  may  not  inaptly  be 
eaUed  the  habits  of  a  comnmnity  —  ways  of  actii^  ac- 
quired largely  without  iHemeditation  and  followed  to 
n  great  extent  throu^  mere  inertia.  The  |Hiovince  of 
the  social  will  is  a  Ixoad  one.  Deliberate  choices;  those 
half-conscious  choices  analogous  to  the  unheeded  es- 

*  "It  fe  ind^potaUe  -1=.:  n:  :.  :  t  greatest  pait  oi  mamkmd 
has  nerer  dhown  a  paitide  : :  if ^l:€  lAiatits  cnilinstitiiittians  dtoajiM 
be  imiNPored  since  lite  r:  ~  ^a  estessal  ecHsipfetEiies  was 
fiist  gh'Cii  to  Ihem  by   '  "'—eat  in  sone  r-—  v-f-T 

record."      Mukb,  Amdew.:  1  j , , :  n. 


134  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

pressions  of  preference  which  fill  the  days  of  the  indi- 
vidual; impulses  and  tendencies  which  scarcely  emerge 
into  the  light  —  all  are  expressions  of  the  social  will. 

In  the  next  chapter  I  shall  distinguish  between  customs 
proper  and  social  habits  in  a  broader  sense.  But,  in 
discussing  the  general  problem  of  the  relation  of  habit 
to  will,  it  is  not  necessary  to  mark  the  distinction. 

Some  habits  rest  upon  us  lightly;  some  are  inveterate. 
Of  some  we  are  well  aware;  others  have  to  be  pointed 
out  to  us  before  we  recognize  that  we  have  them.  Some 
we  approve,  some  we  disapprove,  to  some  we  are  indul- 
gent or  indifferent.  All  these  peculiarities  are  found 
in  the  relation  of  the  social  will  to  social  habits.  It 
may  recognize  them,  approve  of  them,  encourage  them. 
It  may  pay  them  little  attention.  It  may  disapprove 
them  and  strive  to  repress  them.  Will  has  brought  them 
into  being;  it  is  will  that  maintains  them;  it  is  will  that 
must  modify  or  suppress  them. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  communities  do  tend  to  change 
their  habits,  some  more  slowly,  some  more  rapidly.  And 
for  its  habits  we  hold  a  community  responsible.  Com- 
mon sense  refers  them  to  its  will,  and  exercises  approval 
or  disapproval.  This  it  would  not  do  were  the  prac- 
tices upon  which  judgment  is  passed  recognized  as  be- 
yond the  control  of  will  altogether. 

63.  Social  Will  and  Social  Organization.  —  Under  the 
general  heading  of  the  habits  of  a  society  it  is  not 
out  of  place  to  discuss  its  social  and  political  organ- 
ization. 

The  fact  that  there  never  was  an  original  social  con- 
tract, made  with  each  other  by  men  solitary  and  unre- 
lated, with  the  deliberate  intent  of  putting  an  end  to  the 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF    SOCIAL    WILL    135 

war  of  all  against  all,  does  not  signify  that  the  social 
state  in  which  men  find  themselves  is  a  something  with 
which  the  human  will  has  had,  and  has,  nothing  to  do. 

Social  and  political  organization  are  the  result  of  a 
secular  process,  but  behind  that  process,  as  moving  and 
directing  forces,  stand  the  will  and  the  intelligence  of 
man.  The  social  and  political  organization  of  a  com- 
munity is  not  the  creation  of  any  single  generation 
of  men.  Each  generation  is  born  into  a  given  social 
setting,  as  the  individual  is  born  into  the  setting  fur- 
nished by  the  community.  This  social  setting,  the  heri- 
tage of  the  community  from  the  past,  may  be  compared 
to  a  great  estate  brought  together  by  the  efforts  of  a 
man's  ancestors,  and  transmittted  to  him  to  hold  intact, 
to  add  to,  to  squander,  as  he  may  be  inclined.  It  is  a 
product  attained  by  man's  nature  in  its  struggle  with 
environment,  and  that  product  may  be  modified  by  the 
same  forces  that  made  it  what  it  is. 

Into  this  heritage  the  generation  of  men  who  compose 
a  community  at  any  given  time  may  enter  with  little 
thought  of  its  significance,  with  no  information,  or  with 
false  information,  touching  the  manner  of  its  coming 
into  being,  and  with  small  inclination  to  do  anything 
save  to  leave  unchanged  the  institutions  of  which  it 
finds  itself  possessed.  Nevertheless,  the  forms  under 
which  societies  are  organized  are  subject  to  the  social 
will,  and,  if  disapproved,  are  modified  or  abolished. 
Some  change  is  taking  place  even  where  there  is  apparent 
immobility,  as  becomes  evident  when  the  history  of 
institutions  is  followed  through  long  periods  of  time. 
The  utmost  that  can  be  said  is  that,  where  intelligence 
is  little  developed  and  energy  at  a  low  ebb,  the  social 


136  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

will  may  bear  the  stamp  of  passive  acceptance  of  the 
inherited,  rather  than  exhibit  a  tendency  to  innovation. 
Will  it  remains,  but  we  may  hesitate  to  describe  it  as 
a  free  will. 

It  is  at  times  forced  upon  our  attention  with  unmis- 
takable emphasis  that  the  forms  of  social  and  political 
organization  are  under  voluntary  control.  Momentous 
changes  may  be  made  deliberately,  and  with  full  con- 
sciousness of  their  significance.  Among  the  more  pro- 
gressive nations  in  our  day  the  duty  of  introducing  inno- 
vations appears  to  be  generally  recognized:  constitutions 
are  amended;  the  status  of  social  classes  is  made  the 
object  of  legislation;  even  the  domain  of  the  family  is 
invaded,  as  in  legislation  touching  marriage  and  divorce. 
Men  appear  to  feel  themselves  free  to  will  deliberately 
the  end  that  shall  be  served  by  the  mechanism  of  the 
state,  and  to  adapt  that  mechanism  to  the  attainment  of 
the  end  chosen. 

64.  The  Social  Will  and  Ideal  Ends.  —  The  social  will, 
like  the  will  of  the  individual,  may  manifest  itself  in 
decisions  which  it  is  obviously  impossible  to  carry  out  to 
a  completely  successful  issue.  A  community  has  a  power 
of  control  over  its  members,  but  that  control  has  its 
limits.  Even  a  man's  actions  cannot  be  completely  con- 
trolled by  the  community  of  which  ho  is  a  part.  There 
are  always  individuals  who  violate  rules,  and  to  whom, 
as  it  would  seem,  no  motive  can  be  presented  which  is 
adequate  to  keep  them  in  the  rut  prescribed  by  society. 

Still  less  can  the  social  will  exercise  full  control  over 
men's  thoughts  and  feelings.  Influenced  to  some  degree 
they  may  be.  A  man  may  be  kept  in  ignorance,  or 
furnished  with  information  calculated  to  determine  his 


CHARACTERISTICS    OF    SOCIAL    WILL    137 

thought  in  a  given  direction.  His  emotions  may  be 
played  upon;  he  may  be  exhorted,  rewarded,  punished. 
But  thoughts  and  feelings  are  not  open  to  direct  inspec- 
tion; they  may  be  concealed  or  simulated.  Much  more 
readily  than  actions  can  they  withdraw  themselves  from 
control. 

Nevertheless,  the  social  will  may,  and  does,  ignore 
all  such  limitations  to  its  powers.  Laws  are  not  passed 
to  regulate  the  changes  of  the  weather,  which  palpably 
fall  outside  the  province  of  the  law;  but  they  are 
passed  to  regulate  the  actions  of  men,  which  normally 
fall  within  it;  that  is,  which  can,  to  a  very  significant 
degree,  be  influenced  by  the  attitude  of  the  social  will. 
For  the  same  reason  laws  may  even  take  cognizance  of 
men's  thoughts.  Of  the  accidental  limitations  of  its 
power  of  control  within  the  general  sphere  in  which  it 
has  a  meaning  to  speak  of  control,  the  social  will  is  not 
compelled  to  take  cognizance.  It  may  set  itself  to  en- 
courage or  repress  certain  types  of  character  and  conduct, 
and  take  measures  to  attain  the  end  it  has  selected. 
That  the  measures  taken  should  sometimes  prove  inade- 
quate does  not  alter  the  fact  of  the  choice  of  an  end,  nor 
does  it  obscure  the  revelation  of  the  trend  of  the  social 
will. 

Thus,  a  community  may  be  said  to  will  that  its  mem- 
bers shall  not  be  guilty  of  violence;  it  may  will  to  live 
at  peace  with  other  communities ;  it  may  will  to  conquer 
and  subjugate.  Whether,  in  each  case,  the  will  shall  be 
completely  realized  or  not,  may  not  be  determined  by 
the  mere  fact  of  its  willing.  Nevertheless,  the  permanent 
volitional  attitude  may  be  unmistakably  present,  and 
may  reveal  itself  in  strivings  toward  the  chosen  goal.    To 


138  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

describe  this  attitude  as  no  more  than  wishing  is 
manifestly  to  do  it  an  injustice. 

65.  The  Permanent  Social  Will.  —  The  social  will 
may  be  regarded  as  something  permanent.  Its  existence 
is  not  confined  to  those  moments  in  which  collective  de- 
cisions are  being  made.  The  will  to  be  one  which  con- 
stitutes a  group  of  human  beings  a  nation  is  not  at  all 
times  actively  exercised,  but  the  settled  disposition  to 
action  looking  toward  that  end  may  be  always  present 
and  ready  to  be  called  into  action.  An  autocracy  remains 
such  when  its  irresponsible  head  is  making  no  decisions; 
and  a  democracy  is  not  such  only  while  elections  are 
being  held  or  the  legislature  ia  sitting.  The  organization 
of  a  society,  the  whole  body  of  the  usages  which  it 
accepts  and  approves,  are  revelations  of  the  social  will. 
That  will  does,  it  is  true,  give  expression  to  itself  in  a 
series  of  actual  decisions  more  or  less  conscious  and 
deliberate,  but  it  is  far  more  than  any  such  series  of 
decisions.  It  is  a  disposition,  rooted  in  the  past  and 
reaching  into  the  future.  It  is  a  guarantee  of  decisions 
to  come,  of  whose  nature  we  may  make  some  forecast. 

The  permanent  social  will  constitutes  the  character  of 
a  community.  Our  study  of  the  will  of  the  individual 
prepares  us  for  the  recognition  of  the  fact  that  commu- 
nities may  be  but  dimly  aware  of  their  own  character, 
and  may  be  quite  unable  to  give  an  unbiassed  account 
of  the  ideals  which  animate  them. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
EXPRESSIONS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

66.  Custom.  —  We  have  seen  above  that  even  the 
forms  of  political  and  social  organization  may  justly  be 
regarded  as  an  expression  of  the  social  will.  Such  forms 
are  the  result  of  past  choices,  and  their  acceptance  in 
the  present  is  evidence  of  present  choice. 

Between  the  organization  of  a  society  and  its  customs 
proper  we  may  distinguish  by  comparing  the  former  to 
structure  and  the  latter  to  function  in  the  case  of  any 
organism.  But  we  must  bear  in  mind  that,  here,  structure 
has  been  built  up  by,  and  is  in  process  of  modification 
by,  the  same  forces  that  exhibit  themselves  in  function. 
It  would  not  be  wholly  out  of  place  to  describe  a  people 
as  having  the  custom  of  being  ruled  by  hereditary  chiefs, 
of  choosing  their  monarchs,  or  of  governing  themselves 
through  elected  representatives.  Forms  of  organization 
are  handed  down  to  successive  generations  by  the  same 
social  tradition  that  transmits  customs  of  every  de- 
scription. 

Customs  are  public  habits  which  are,  on  the  whole, 
approved  by  a  community.  They  are  ways  of  acting 
which  are  regarded  as  normal  and  proper.  Where  the 
authority  of  custom  is  evoked,  pressure  is  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  individual  to  adjust  himself  to  the  will 
of  the  community. 

139 


140  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

A  community,  like  an  individual,  may  have  habits 
which  it  does  not  approve.  Such  may  be  tolerated,  al- 
though disapproved;  or  active  efforts  may  be  made  to 
set  them  aside.  Some  habits  may  be  regarded  with 
comparative  indifference,  although  professedly  held  in 
condemnation.  The  individual,  in  following  such  habits, 
may  claim  that  they  are  not  unequivocally  condemned 
by  the  community,  and  he  is  not  conscious  of  the  weight 
of  displeasure  which  visits  the  violation  of  the  will  of 
the  community  when  unequivocally  expressed. 

In  simple  and  primitive  societies  custom  prescribes 
to  the  individual  his  course  of  life  in  the  minutest  detail. 
It  possesses  the  authority  of  the  dictator.  In  societies 
upon  a  higher  level  it  may  leave  to  him  some  discretion 
in  deciding  upon  the  details  of  his  daily  life,  while  still 
exercising  a  paramount  control  over  the  general  trend 
of  his  actions. 

Thus  the  will  of  the  community,  expressed  in  custom, 
determines  what  the  members  of  the  community  ought 
to  do,  and  it  takes  measures  to  enforce  obedience  to  its 
decisions.  Is  it  surprising  that  the  names  which  have 
been  given  to  the  science  which  treats  of  man's  rights 
and  duties,  morals,  ethics  {mores,  ethica,  Sitten) ,  should 
reflect  this  truth?  It  would  be  an  inadequate  statement 
to  maintain  that  the  science  of  morals  is  no  more  than 
a  systematic  exposition  of  the  customary  in  human  so- 
cieties. It  is  not  an  inadequate  statement  to  assert  that, 
in  many  societies,  custom  has,  in  fact,  furnished  the 
ultimate  and  complete  standard  of  obligation,  and  that 
in  all  societies  it  is  of  enormous  significance  in  moulding 
men's  notions  of  right  and  wrong. 

67.  The  Ground  for  the  Authority  of  Custom.  —  Hab- 


EXPRESSIONS    OF    SOCIAL    WILL      141 

its  are  as  essential  to  a  society  as  they  are  to  an  indi- 
vidual human  being.  Without  them,  society  could  not 
live.  In  any  social  state  —  and  no  man  can  live  except 
in  a  social  state  —  there  must  be  cooperation.  How 
can  there  be  cooperation  if  there  are  no  social  habits 
upon  which  men  may  count  in  their  dealings  with  one 
another? 

Trj'  to  conceive  all  the  tacit  mutual  conventions,  the 
unconscious  adaptations  to  custom,  which  guide  our  daily 
lives,  suspended  for  twenty-four  hours.  When  should 
one  rise  in  the  morning?  How  should  one  dress?  What 
and  how  should  one  eat?  Of  business  there  could  be 
no  question,  nor  could  there  be  cooperation  in  pleasures. 
Public  order  there  could  not  be,  for  there  would  be  no 
public  worthy  of  the  name.  Protection  of  life  and  limb 
would  be  the  creature  of  accident.  Between  civility  and 
insult  there  would  be  no  recognizable  distinction.  In 
short,  men  could  not  behave  either  well  or  ill,  for  there 
would  be  no  rule  to  follow  or  to  violate,  nothing  to 
expect,  and,  hence,  no  ground  for  disappointment. 

In  such  a  chaotic  condition  no  society  of  men  has 
ever  lived.  No  actual  state  of  anarchy  has  ever  been 
complete,  nor  could  it  be,  and  endure.  A  "  reign  of 
terror  "  is  a  reign  of  law  in  comparison  with  such  a 
dissolution  of  all  the  bonds  which  knit  man  to  man. 
When  we  pass  from  one  community  to  another,  we  find 
one  set  of  public  habits  exchanged  for  another.  Some 
sets  impress  us  as  better,  some  as  worse.  But  there  is 
no  set  which  is  not  better  than  none.  It  makes  it  possible 
for  men  to  live,  if  not  to  live  well. 

Customs  are,  then,  a  necessity.  It  is  equally  necessary 
that  they  should,  in  general,  have  binding  force  for  the 


142  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

individual.  But  there  are  customs  good  and  bad.  The 
individual  may  fall  into  habits  which  he,  upon  reflection, 
concludes  to  be  injurious  to  him,  and  which  others  see 
clearly  to  be  injurious.  A  community  suSiciently  enlight- 
ened to  criticize  itself  at  all,  may  come  to  disapprove 
some  of  its  customs  and  may  endeavor  to  abolish  them. 

This  means  that  a  new  act  of  the  social  will  may  set 
itself  in  opposition  to  the  social  will  already  crystallized 
into  custom.  In  a  given  instance,  and  where  there  are 
differences  of  opinion,  it  may  be  a  nice  question  whether 
the  new  or  the  old  should  be  regarded  as  the  authoritative 
expression  of  the  social  will. 

68.  The  Origin  and  the  Persistence  of  Customs. — 
From  the  fact  that  customs  are,  in  general,  to  be  re- 
garded as  expressions  of  the  social  will,  it  might  be 
assumed  that  their  purposive  character  and  social  utility 
should  be  a  sufficient  explanation  of  their  coming  into 
being.  But  the  matter  is  not  so  simple.  A  man  may 
fall  into  habits  which  are  no  indication  of  what  he 
regards  as  useful  to  him.  Such  habits  have  not  been 
formed  independently  of  his  will,  and  yet  they  may 
appear  to  be  purposeless,  or  even  detrimental.  Who 
wishes  to  have  the  inveterate  habit  of  cracking  the  joints 
of  his  fingers  or  of  biting  his  finger-nails?  What  purpose 
do  such  habits  serve? 

Although  the  social  utility  of  customs,  taken  generally, 
is  easily  apparent,  yet  there  are  many  customs  which 
seem  inexplicable  upon  such  a  principle.  Why,  for  ex- 
ample, should  the  king  of  a  primitive  community  be 
prohibited  from  sleeping  lying  down?  or  why  should  it 
be  forbidden  that  he  gaze  upon  the  sea?  ^    The  origin  of 

1  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  Eleventh  edition,  article  "  Taboo." 


EXPRESSIONS    OF    SOCIAL    WILL      143 

such  customs  is  hidden  in  obscurity.  That  their  adoption 
was  not  without  its  reason,  we  may  assume.  That  the 
reason  was  a  reasonable  one  cannot  be  maintained.  It 
seems  probable,  however,  that  it  at  some  time  seemed 
reasonable  to  some  one.  The  persistence  of  habit,  social 
as  well  as  individual,  would  account  for  the  perpetuation 
of  the  custom  long  after  the  occasion  which  gave  rise 
to  it  had  been  forgotten. 

69.  Law.  —  Between  custom  and  law,  taken  generally, 
it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  draw  a  sharp  distinction, 
although,  in  some  instances,  the  distinction  may  be 
clearly  marked.  In  primitive  communities,  laws  reduced 
to  writing,  and  administered  by  persons  deliberately 
chosen  for  that  end,  may  be  wholly  lacking;  and  yet  who 
would  say  that  such  communities  do  not  live  under  the 
reign  of  law  in  a  broad  sense  of  the  term?  A  course  of 
life  is  prescribed  to  the  individual;  failure  to  come  up 
to  the  standard  meets  with  punishment. 

Nevertheless,  as  social  life  rises  in  the  scale  and  as 
communities  become  developed,  custom  and  law  become 
differentiated.  The  latter  stands  out  upon  the  back- 
ground of  the  former  as  something  more  sharply  defined. 
Penalties  and  the  method  of  their  infliction  are  more 
exactly  fixed.  Not  all  violations  of  what  is  customary 
are  taken  up  into  the  legal  code  as  punishable  offences, 
although  they  meet  with  that  indefinite  measure  of  pun- 
ishment entailed  by  social  disapproval. 

Those  public  habits  which  it  seems  to  a  community 
it  is  of  especial  importance  to  preserve  and  enforce  come 
to  be  embodied  in  laws.  The  selection  is  a  matter  of 
more  or  less  deliberate  choice,  and  is  an  expression  of 
will.     The   choice   is  not,   normally,   an   arbitrary  one. 


144  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

The  laws  of  a  people  are,  unless  accident  has  intervened, 
the  outcome  and  expression  of  its  corporate  life.  For  their 
ultimate  authority  they  rest  upon  the  acquiescence  of  the 
social  will.  Laws  contrary  to  deep-seated  and  widely 
accepted  custom  are  not  apt  to  be  regarded  as  of  binding 
force.  They  are  felt  to  be  tyrannous,  and  are  obeyed,  if 
at  all,  unwillingly,  and  because  of  pressure  from  without. 

In  a  later  chapter  ^  I  shall  dwell  upon  the  fact  that 
the  accidental  may  play  a  very  significant  role  in  law. 
In  given  instances  the  laws  of  a  community  may  be,  not 
the  outcome  of  its  will  in  any  sense,  but  something  im- 
posed upon  it.  Such  laws  cannot  but  be  felt  to  be 
oppressive  and  a  restriction  of  freedom. 

Laws,  like  customs,  may  cease  to  have  a  significance, 
and  they  may  be  modified  or  allowed  to  fall  into  desue- 
tude. There  is,  however,  much  conservatism,  as  all  who 
are  familiar  with  legal  usage  know.  And  laws  may  fail 
of  their  purpose.  They  may  aim  to  diminish  crime,  and 
their  undiscriminating  severity  may  foster  crime.  So 
may  the  individual  select  an  end,  fall  into  error  in  his 
choice  of  means,  and,  as  a  result  of  experience,  resolve 
to  substitute  for  such  means  others  which  are  better 
adapted  to  carry  out  his  purpose. 

70.  Public  Opinion.  —  Public  opinion  is  manifestly  a 
force  broader  and  more  vague  than  established  custom, 
and  still  broader  than  law.  Public  opinion  may  approve 
or  condemn  what  no  law  touches,  and  it  makes  its 
influence  felt  beyond  the  sphere  of  what  is  customary. 

Where  customs  and  laws  come  to  be  imperfect  expres- 
sions of  the  social  will,  they  may  stand  condemned  by 
public  opinion.    In  such  a  case  their  authority  is  under- 

2  Chapter  xx. 


EXPRESSIONS    OF    SOCIAL    WILL      145 

mined  and  violations  of  them  are  condoned.  Where 
public  opinion  is  strongly  against  a  law,  the  law  be- 
comes ineffective.  The  conservatism  of  law  is  such  that 
a  law  may  be  allowed  to  stand  unchanged,  and  yet  may 
fail  to  be  carried  into  effect.  Juries  may  refuse  to 
convict,  or  the  unpalatable  infliction  of  punishment  may 
be  avoided  by  granting  to  the  judge  a  wide  discretion  in 
pronouncing  sentence. 

The  gradual  development  of  a  strong  public  sentiment 
may  lead  to  the  passage  of  new  laws,  not  based  upon 
previously  established  customs,  but  deliberately  framed 
with  a  view  to  the  public  weal.  Old  customs  may  be 
modified  and  new  customs  may  be  introduced.  That  the 
recommendations  of  public  opinion  extend  beyond  the 
sphere  of  the  customary  is  manifest.  It  is  not  the 
custom  of  most  men  to  leave  any  large  part  of  their 
estate  to  public  charity.  Except  in  the  case  of  the  very 
rich,  the  failure  to  do  so  is  not,  as  a  rule,  expressly 
condemned.  Yet  such  bequests  are  approved,  the  testa- 
tors are  praised,  and  the  attitude  of  public  opinion  has 
no  small  influence  upon  the  conduct  of  individuals.  Again, 
extreme  self-sacrifice  is  not  customary ;  it  is  exceptional ; 
and  yet  shining  examples  of  unselfishness  excite  a  warm 
sympathy.  The  expression  of  this  sympathy  is  not  with- 
out its  influence. 

Public  opinion  is  more  palpably  an  expression  of  the 
actual  social  will  than  are  custom  and  law.  We  have 
seen  that  the  last  two  may  represent,  in  given  instances, 
rather  the  inherited  will  of  the  past  than  the  living  will  of 
the  present.  But  when  we  call  public  opinion  an  ex- 
pression of  the  social  will  we  cannot  mean  that  it  nec- 
essarily reflects  the  sentiment  of  all  the  members  of  a 
given  community. 


146  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

In  primitive  communities  custom  may  be  a  public 
habit  which  embraces  all,  or  nearly  all,  individuals. 
Public  opinion  may  scarcely  have  a  separate  existence. 
In  communities  more  developed,  some  individuals  may 
disapprove  and  refuse  to  follow  many  customs  which  are 
characteristic  of  the  society  to  which  they  belong.  Laws 
are  not  approved  by  all,  and,  in  progressive  states,  there 
is  usually  some  agitation  which  has  as  its  object  the 
repeal  of  old  laws  or  the  passage  of  new  ones.  In  com- 
munities where  there  is  independence  of  thought,  public 
opinion  is  usually  divided. 

Furthermore,  the  communities  to  which  civilized  men 
belong  are  not  homogeneous  aggregations  of  units.  There 
is  the  public  opinion  which  obtains  within  single  groups 
within  the  state.  The  adherents  of  a  religious  sect  may 
have  notions  peculiar  to  themselves  of  the  conduct  proper 
to  the  individual,  and  such  notions  may  extend  far 
beyond  what  is  actually  prescribed  by  the  tenets  of  the 
sect.  The  several  trades  and  professions,  the  social 
classes,  neighborhoods,  even  lesser  voluntary  associations 
of  men,  such  as  clubs,  may  be  pervaded  by  a  public 
sentiment  which  varies  with  each  group.  When  we  speak 
of  public  opinion  generally  we  have  in  mind  something 
broader,  a  resultant.  But  the  public  sentiment  of  the 
lesser  groups  cannot  be  ignored.  The  individual  feels 
himself  Especially  influenced  by  the  opinions  of  those 
most  nearly  associated  with  him. 

Under  the  head  of  public  opinion  it  is  convenient  to 
speak  of  the  opinions  of  moral  teachers  who  have  in- 
fluenced the  race.  Such  a  thinker  may  enunciate  truths 
far  in  advance  of  the  opinions  of  his  fellows.  His  teach- 
ings are  not,  hence,  fairly  representative  of  the  social 


EXPRESSIONS    OF    SOCIAL    WILL      147 

will  as  it  reveals  itself  in  his  time.  But  the  sentiments  of 
the  more  enlightened  never  are  completely  in  accord 
with  those  of  the  mass  of  their  fellows.  They  are  not 
mere  aberrations  from  the  social  will ;  they  are  its  fore- 
runners. The  moralist  and  the  religious  teacher  initiate 
new  choices,  which  may  become  the  choices  of  large 
bodies  of  men.  From  them  proceed  influences  which 
have  their  issue  in  new  expressions  of  the  social  will,  char- 
acterizing whole  societies,  and  giving  birth  to  new  cus- 
toms, new  laws,  and  a  new  form  of  public  opinion.  One 
can  scarcely  imagine  what  China  would  be  without  her 
Confucius;  or  the  Arabic  world,  with  Mahomet  ab- 
stracted. 


CHAPTER    XIX 
THE    SHARERS    IN    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

71.  The   Community.  —  It   is   difficult  to   state   with 
absolute  exactness  what  constitutes  a  community. 

We  may  define  it  as  a  group  of  human  beings  associ- 
ated in  a  common  life,  depending  upon  and  cooperating 
with  each  other.  This  definition  will  apply,  to  be  sure, 
to  lesser  groups  within  a  tribe  or  state;  and  even  to 
a  collection  of  tribes  or  states  in  so  far  as  such  enter 
into  alliances  and  cooperate  to  their  mutual  advantage. 
As,  however,  the  bond  of  union  is,  in  the  former  case, 
subordinate  to  the  higher  authority  of  a  larger  group 
(for  the  family  is  subject  to  the  tribe  or  state) ;  and  as, 
in  the  latter  case,  the  bond  of  union  is  a  relatively  loose 
one,  and  evidently  subordinate  to  that  which  binds  the 
citizens  of  individual  states,  the  community  proper  may 
be  regarded  as  that  group  which  is  characterized  by  a 
relatively  great  degree  of  inner  coherence  and  by  relative 
external  independence. 

The  type  of  such  communities  is,  among  the  more 
primitive  peoples,  the  tribe,  and  among  the  more  devel- 
oped, the  state.  The  authority  of  such  groups  over  their 
own  members  is,  theoretically,  paramount,  although  it 
may  be  suspended  or  abolished  by  the  exertion  of  force 
from  without. 

Such  a  community  may  be  said  to  be  inspired  by  a  so- 
cial will  expressed  in  its  customs,  its  laws  and  the  public 

148 


SHARERS    IN    THE    SOCIAL    WILL     149 

opinion  prevalent  in  it.  Its  menibers  may  be  said  to  be 
sharers  in  the  social  will  of  the  community.  Their  par- 
ticipation in  it  is  marked  by  their  being  endowed  with 
rights  and  charged  with  duties. 

It  has  not  been  characteristic  of  communities  gen- 
erally that  all  who  find  their  place  in  them  should  be 
like  sharers  in  the  social  will.  The  distinction  has  been 
made  between  the  citizen,  who  enjoys  the  fullest  rights 
and  may,  perhaps,  directly  take  part  in  the  govermnent 
of  the  state,  and  those  who,  while  in  the  state,  are  not 
of  it,  as  they  do  not  enjoy  citizenship.  Where  slavery, 
in  any  of  its  forms,  has  prevailed,  the  distinction  be- 
tween those  who  are  significant  factors  in  determining 
the  social  will,  and  those  who  have  not  this  prerogative, 
has  been  very  marked.  Social  classes  have  often  enjoyed, 
even  before  the  law,  privileges  of  great  moment.  Women 
have,  as  a  rule,  not  been  treated  as  citizens,  and  have 
been  refused  a  share  in  the  government  of  the  community. 
Children  are  cared  for  and  are  protected,  but  political 
rights  are  denied  them.  Their  status  before  the  law 
is  a  peculiar  one.  The  mentally  defective,  both  in 
primitive  communities  and  in  developed  ones,  stand  in 
a  relation  to  the  community  peculiar  to  themselves. 
They  are  not  excluded  from  it ;  they  are  accorded  rights ; 
but  they  are  assigned  in  the  community  a  place  of  their 
own.  Wherever  we  look,  we  find  inequality.  The  shar- 
ers in  the  social  will  do  not  share  equally,  nor  do  they 
share  in  the  same  way.  This  is  true  of  communities  of 
every  description,  but  the  differences  are  more  marked 
in  some  than  in  others. 

72.  The  Community  and  the  Dead.  —  It  is  not  merely 
of  the  living  human  beings  which  compose  a  community 


150  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

that  the  social  will  takes  cognizance.  Other  wills  are 
made  participants  in  the  body  of  rights  and  duties  pecu- 
liar to  the  community. 

In  many  communities  the  dead  are  still  counted  among 
its  members.  They  are  conceived  as  affecting  its  wel- 
fare, and  as  demanding  services  from  the  living.  Duties 
towards  the  dead  are  a  w'ell-recognized  division  of  the 
sum  of  a  man's  obligations  in  communities  the  most 
diverse  in  their  character.  In  some,  they  occupy  a  very 
prominent  place;  in  no  conmiunity  are  they  wholly 
overlooked.  A  striking  illustration  of  the  recognition  by 
the  social  will  of  the  rights  of  the  dead  is  to  be  found 
in  the  whole  modern  law  of  testamentary  succession. 
The  will  expressed  by  a  man  while  he  is  alive  is  given 
effect  as  though  he  were  still  in  the  flesh  and  insisted 
upon  the  fulfillment  of  his  desire.  It  appears  to  work 
as  a  permanent  factor  in  the  community  life,  making 
its  influence  felt  for  generations.  Witness  its  influence 
in  charitable  foundations,  in  the  law  of  entail,  and  the 
like. 

73.  The  Community  and  the  Supernatural. — Nor  is 
it  merely  in  recognizing  the  wills  of  the  dead  that  the 
social  will  extends  its  sphere  beyond  the  community  of 
living  human  beings.  To  primitive  man,  and  to  man 
far  from  primitive,  his  social  environment  has  not  seemed 
to  be  limited  to  the  living  and  the  dead  who  have,  or 
who  have  had,  an  undeniable  and  unequivocal  place  in 
the  community. 

The  part  played  in  the  life  of  man  by  supernatural 
beings  of  various  orders  has  been  a  most  significant  one. 
Demons  and  gods,  spirits  of  a  lower  or  of  a  higher  order, 
have  occupied  his  mind  and  have  influenced  his  actions. 


SHARERS    IN    THE    SOCIAL    WILL     151 

Such  beings  have  been  conceived  to  be,  sometimes,  malev- 
olent and  needing  to  be  placated,  sometimes,  benevolent 
and  fit  objects  of  gratitude.  Their  wills  man  has  re- 
garded as  forces  to  be  taken  into  account,  a  something  to 
which  the  individual  and  the  community  must  adjust 
themselves. 

Man's  relation,  or  supposed  relation,  to  such  beings  has 
been  a  source  of  classes  of  duties  upon  which  great  stress 
has  been  laid.  The  influence  of  this  admission  of  super- 
natural beings  into  the  circle  of  those  directly  concerned 
in  the  community  life  has  found  its  expression  in  the 
organization  of  the  state,  in  custom,  in  law,  in  public 
opinion.  We  know  little  of  a  community  when  we  over- 
look this  factor. 

Between  magic  and  religion  it  is  not  easy  to  draw 
a  sharp  line,  especially  when  we  view  religion  in  the 
lower  stages  of  its  development.  In  both  we  have  to 
do  with  what  may  be  called  the  supernatural.  INIagic  has 
been  defined  as  the  employment  of  mechanical  means  to 
attain  the  desired  end.  In  religion,  when  it  so  far  de- 
velops that  its  specific  character  seems  clearly  revealed, 
we  have  left  the  sphere  of  the  mechanical. 

The  distinction  between  the  mechanical  and  the  spir- 
itual is  familiar  to  us  in  our  dealings  with  our  fellow- 
men.  In  such  dealings  we  may  employ  physical  force. 
On  the  other  hand,  we  may  appeal  to  their  intelligence 
and  their  emotions,  and  thus  influence  their  action.  In 
so  far  as  we  do  not  make  such  an  appeal,  we  deal  with 
our  fellows,  not  as  though  they  belonged  to  our  social 
environment,  but  to  our  physical. 

At  the  lowest  stages  of  his  development,  man  does 
not  distinguish  clearly  between  persons  and  things.    This 


152  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

means  that  he  cannot  distinguish  clearly  between  his 
material  environment  and  his  social.  But  the  distinction 
becomes  gradually  clearer,  and  it  is,  in  the  end,  a  marked 
one.  Religion  l^ecomes  differentiated  from  magic.  To 
confound  religion,  in  its  higher  developments,  with  magic 
is  an  inexcusable  confusion. 

74.  Religion  and  the  Community.  —  The  denotation 
of  the  term  religion  is  a  broad  one,  and  there  will  prob- 
ably always  be  dispute  as  to  the  justice  of  its  extension 
to  this  or  to  that  particular  form  of  faith.  But  it  seems 
clear  that  it  is  typical  of  religion  to  extend  what  may 
not  unjustly  be  called  the  social  environment  of  man. 

Will  is  recognized  other  than  the  wills  of  the  human 
beings  constituting  the  community.  To  the  part  played 
by  such  wills  a  very  great  prominence  may  be  given. 

States  may  be  theocratic,  as  among  the  ancient  He- 
brews; or  church  and  state  may  share  the  dominion,  or 
struggle  between  themselves  for  the  supremacy,  as  in 
Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages;  or  the  state  may  be  theo- 
retically supreme  in  authority  and  yet  maintain  and 
lend  authority  to  a  church.  Even  where  church  and 
state  are,  in  theory,  quite  divorced  —  a  modern  con- 
ception —  the  church  with  its  ordinances  and  prescrip- 
tions, its  sacred  days,  its  ceremonial,  its  educational 
institutions,  remains  a  very  significant  factor  in  the  social 
environment  of  man.  Religious  duties  have  at  all  times 
and  in  all  sorts  of  societies  been  regarded  as  constituting 
an  important  aspect  of  conduct.  They  color  strongly 
the  mores  of  the  community.  Whole  codes  of  morals 
may  be  referred  to  the  teachings  of  certain  religious 
leaders.    They  claim  their  authority  on  religious  grounds. 

The  great  significance  of  the  role  played  by  religion  in 


SHARERS    IN    THE    SOCIAL    WILL     153 

the  sphere  of  morals  is  impressed  upon  one  who  glances 
over  the  works  of  those  writers  who  have  approached 
the  subject  of  ethics  from  the  side  of  anthropology  or 
sociology.  A  review  of  the  facts  has  even  tempted  one 
of  the  most  learned  to  seek  the  origin  of  morals  almost 
wholly  in  religion.^ 

That  religion  should  play  an  important  part  in  giving 
birth  to  or  modifying  moral  codes  is  not  surprising. 
Man  adjusts  himself  to  his  social  environment  as  he 
conceives  it.  If  the  community  of  wills  which  he  rec- 
ognizes includes  the  wills  of  supernatural  beings,  it  is 
natural  that  the  social  will  which  finds  its  expression  in 
the  organization  of  the  state,  in  custom,  in  law  and  in 
public  opinion,  should  be  modified  by  such  inclusion. 

Nor  is  it  surprising  that  the  supernatural  element 
should,  at  times,  dwarf  and  render  insignificant  the 
other  elements  which  enter  into  the  social  will.  It  may 
seem  to  man  the  all-important  factor  in  his  life. 

Within  the  human  community  some  individuals  count 
for  much  more  than  do  others.  There  are  those  who 
scarcely  seem  to  have  any  voice  in  contributing  to  the 
character  and  direction  of  the  social  will.  Others  are 
influential;  and,  in  extreme  cases,  the  wills  of  the  few, 
or  even  that  of  a  single  individual,  may  be  the  source 
of  law  for  the  many.  If  men  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  weal  and  woe  of  the  community  are  dependent 
upon  the  will  of  the  gods,  or  of  God,  they  will  unavoid- 
ably give  frank  recognition  to  that  will  above  others, 
and  such  recognition  will  dictate  conduct.  The  gods 
of  Epicurus,  leading  a  lazy  existence  in  the  interstellar 

1  WuNDT,  Ethics,  Vol.  I,  "The  Facts  of  the  Moral  Life"; 
see  chapters  ii  and  iii.    English  Translation,  London,  1897. 


154  THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

spaces,  indifferent  to  man  and  in  no  wise  affecting  his 
life,  could  scarcely  become  the  objects  of  a  cult.  But 
the  God  of  the  Mahometan,  of  the  Jew,  or  of  the  Christ- 
ian, is  a  ruler  to  be  feared,  loved,  obeyed.  His  will 
is  law,  and  is  determinative  of  conduct. 

75.  The  Spread  of  the  Community.  —  So  far  I 
have  been  speaking  of  the  community  properly  so  called, 
of  the  single  group  of  human  beings  living  its  corporate 
life.  But  such  groups  do  not  normally  remain  in  iso- 
lation. As  the  isolation  of  the  group  diminishes,  as 
contacts  between  it  and  others  become  more  numerous 
and  more  important,  the  necessity  of  conventions  con- 
trolling the  relations  of  groups  becomes  more  pressing. 

This  implies  the  development  of  a  broader  social  will, 
inclusive  of  the  social  wills  of  the  several  communities. 
This  social  will  may  be  very  feeble,  and  the  bond  be- 
tween men  belonging  to  different  communities  may  be 
a  weak  one;  or  it  may  be  vigorous,  and  furnish  an  inti- 
mate bond.  The  savage,  to  whom  those  beyond  the  pale 
of  his  tribe  or  small  confederation  are  mere  strangers, 
and  probably  enemies,  stands  at  the  lower  limit  of  the 
scale;  the  trader,  to  whom  the  stranger  is  co-partner  in 
a  mutually  profitable  transaction,  stands  higher;  the 
Stoic  philosopher,  cosmopolitan  in  thought  and  feeling, 
rating  the  claims  of  kindred  and  country  as  less  signi- 
ficant than  the  bonds  which  unite  all  men  in  virtue 
of  their  common  humanity,  marks  the  other  extreme. 
The  spread  of  the  social  will  grows  marked  as  man  rises 
in  the  scale  of  civilization.  Barriers  are  broken  down 
and  limits  are  transcended. 

This  broader  social  will,  like  the  narrower,  reveals 
itself  in  the  organization  of  society.    We  find  confeder- 


SHARERS    IN    THE    SOCIAL    WILL     155 

ations  of  tribes  or  states;  alliances  temporary  or  rela- 
tively permanent.  And  the  broader  social  will  modifies 
customs,  gives  birth  to  systems  of  law,  and  encourages 
the  development  of  an  inclusive  humanitarian  sentiment. 

It  does  not  necessarily  obliterate  old  distinctions.  The 
family,  neighborhood,  kindred,  have  their  claims  even 
under  the  most  firmly  organized  of  states;  but  those 
claims  are  limited  and  controlled.  Even  so,  the  broader 
social  will  may  come  to  regard  states  as  answerable  for 
their  decisions.  International  law  remains  to  the  present 
day  what  has  aptly  been  called  a  pious  wish.  But 
public  opinion  prepares  the  way  for  law;  and  all  states, 
whatever  be  their  real  aims,  now  attempt  to  justify 
their  actions  by  an  appeal  to  the  more  or  less  nebulous 
tribunal  of  international  public  opinion.  In  this  they 
recognize  its  claim  to  act  as  arbiter.  Within  the 
jurisdiction  of  a  state,  the  motto,  ''  my  family,  right 
or  wrong,"  would  not  be  a  maxim  approved  in  a  court  of 
justice.  International  law  is  made  a  mock  of  by  the 
frank  enunciation  of  the  maxim,  "  my  country,  right  or 
wrong."  Hence,  such  frankness  is,  in  international  re- 
lations, not  encouraged. 

The  more  or  less  skillfully  made  appeal  to  the  moral 
sense  of  mankind  —  to  the  broader  social  will  as  public 
opinion  —  implies  a  certain  recognition  of  its  authority, 
or,  at  least,  of  its  influence.  Whether  this  is  a  definite 
step  toward  the  granting  of  a  real  authority  to  the 
broader  social  will,  an  authority  which  will  curb  impar- 
tially the  selfishness  of  individual  states,  it  remains  for 
the  future  to  decide. 


PART  VI 
THE  REAL   SOCIAL  WILL 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  IMPERFECT  SOCIAL  WILL 

76.  The  Apparent  and  the  Real  Social  Will.  — It  is 

important  to  distinguish  between  the  apparent  and  the 
real  social  will.  We  may  begin  by  pointing  out  that  the 
question  ''  apparent  to  whom?  "  is  a  pertinent  one. 

The  social  will  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  individual 
through  a  variety  of  agencies.  The  family,  the  neigh- 
borhood, the  church,  the  trade  or  profession,  the  politi- 
cal party,  the  social  class  —  all  these  have  their  habits 
and  maxims.  They  tend  to  mold  to  their  type  those 
whom  they  count  among  their  members.  The  pressure 
which  they  bring  to  bear  is  felt  as  a  sense  of  moral 
obligation.  Naturally,  individuals  with  different  affili- 
ations will  be  sensible  of  the  pressure  in  different  ways, 
and  may  differ  widely  in  their  conceptions  of  the  obli- 
gations actually  laid  upon  the  individual  by  the  will 
of  the  greater  organism  of  which  he  is  a  part. 

But  even  he  who  rises  above  minor  distinctions  and 
takes  a  broad  view  of  society  is  forced  to  recognize  that 
the  distinction  between  the  apparent  and  the  real  social 
will  may  be  a  most  significant  one. 

We  have  found  the  expression  of  the  social  will  in 
custom,  law  and  public  opinion.  This  is  just;  but  the 
statement  must  be  accepted  with  reservations. 

There  are  instances  in  which  neither  the  organization 
of  the  state,  nor  the  laws  according  to  which  it  is  gov- 

159 


160  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

erned,  can  be  considered  as  in  any  sense  an  expression 
of  the  social  will.  An  autocracy,  established  by  force, 
and  ruling  without  the  free  consent  of  the  governed,  is 
an  external  and  overruling  power.  It  may  be  obeyed, 
but  it  is  not  consented  to.  Nor  is  any  body  of  law  or 
system  of  government  imposed  upon  a  subject  people  by 
an  alien  and  dominant  race  a  fair  exponent  of  the  social 
will  of  the  people  thus  governed.  Custom  and  public 
opinion  are  at  variance  with  law.  However  just  and 
enlightened  the  government,  as  judged  from  the  stand- 
point of  some  other  race  or  nation,  its  control  must  be 
felt  as  oppressive  by  those  upon  whom  it  is  imposed. 
Traditions  felt  to  be  the  most  sacred  may  be  violated; 
moral  laws,  as  understood  by  those  thus  under  dictation, 
may  be  transgressed  by  obedience  to  the  law  of  the  land. 

Where  custom,  law  and  public  opinion  are  more  nearly 
the  spontaneous  outcome  of  the  life  of  a  community, 
they  may  with  more  justice  be  taken  as  expressions 
of  the  social  will  of  that  community  as  it  is  at  the 
time.    Yet,  even  here,  we  must  make  reservations. 

The  organization  of  a  state  represents  rather  the 
crystallized  will  of  the  past  than  the  free  choice  of  the 
present.  To  be  sure,  it  is  accepted  in  the  present;  but 
this  is  little  more  than  the  acquiescence  of  inertia.  And 
public  opinion  may  be  at  variance  both  with  custom 
and  with  law  long  before  it  succeeds  in  modifying  either. 
What  is  the  actual  social  will  of  a  community  during  the 
interval? 

The  past  may  be  felt  as  exercising  a  certain  tyranny 
over  the  present.  That  the  present  cannot  be  cut  wholly 
loose  from  it  is  manifest,  but  how  far  should  its  depen- 
dence be  accepted?  In  the  past  there  have  been  historical 


THE    IMPERFECT    SOCIAL  WILL        161 

causes  for  the  rise  of  dictatorships,  of  oligarchies,  of 
dominant  social  classes.  The  men  of  a  later  time  inherit 
such  social  institutions,  may  accept  them  as  desirable, 
or  may  feel  them  as  instruments  of  tyranny.  Shall  we 
say  that  they  represent  the  actual  social  will  of  the 
community  until  such  time  as  they  are  done  away  with 
by  a  successful  revolution?  Or  shall  we  say  that  they 
are  in  harmony  with  the  apparent  social  will  only,  and 
really  stand  condemned? 

77.  The  Will  of  the  Majority.  —  Our  own  democratic 
institutions  rest  upon  the  theory  that  the  social  will 
is  to  be  determined  by  the  majority  vote.  To  be  sure, 
we  seem  to  find  it  necessary  to  limit  the  application 
of  this  doctrine,  and  to  seek  stability  of  government  by 
fixing,  in  certain  cases  rather  arbitrarily,  the  size  of  the 
majority  that  shall  count.^  But  the  doctrine,  taken 
generally,  does  seem  in  harmony  with  the  test  of 
rationality  developed  above. '^  It  aims  at  the  satis- 
faction of  man}^  desires  —  at  what  may  be  termed  satis- 
faction on  the  whole. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  possible  to  question  whether  the 
vote  of  the  majority  represents,  in  a  given  instance, 
the  actual  will  of  the  community. 

No  one  knows  better  than  the  practical  politician 
how  the  votes  of  the  majority  are  obtained.  No  one 
knows  better  than  he  that,  in  the  most  democratic  of 
communities,  it  is  the  wills  of  the  few  that  count.  The 
organization  of  a  party,  clever  leadership,  the  command 
of  the  press,  the  catching  phrases  of  the  popular  orator, 
the  street  procession,  the  brass  band,  the  possession  of 

^  See  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  Article  V. 
-  Chapter  xvi. 


162  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

the  ability  to  caj  ole  and  to  threaten  —  these  play  no 
mean  role  in  the  outcome,  which  may  be  the  adoption 
of  a  state  policy  of  which  a  large  proportion  of  the 
majority  voting  may  be  quite  unable  to  comprehend 
the  significance.  Shall  we  sa}'^,  in  such  a  case,  that  the 
will  of  the  majority  was  for  the  ultimate  end?  Or 
shall  we  say  that  the  vote  was  in  pursuance  of  a 
multitude  of  minor  ends,  many  of  which  had  but  an 
accidental  connection  with  the  ultimate  end? 

78.  Ignorance  and  Error  and  the  Social  Will.  —  The 
apparent  will  of  the  community  appears  to  be,  in  large 
measure,  an  accidental  thing.  That  is  to  say,  men  will 
what  they  would  not  will  were  they  not  hampered  by 
ignorance  and  error,  and  were  they  not  incapable  of 
taking  long  views  of  their  own  interests. 

The  decisions  of  the  social  will  may  be  the  outcome 
of  ignorance  and  superstition. 

Where  it  is  thought  necessary  to  punish  the  accidental 
homicide  in  order  to  appease  the  ghost  of  the  dead 
man,  which  might  otherwise  become  a  cause  of  harm, 
the  course  of  justice,  if  one  may  call  it  such,  deviates 
from  what  the  enlightened  man  must  regard  as  normal. 
The  belief  that  sin  is  an  infection,  communicable  by 
heredity  or  even  by  contact,  must  lead  to  similar  aber- 
rations of  primitive  justice.  Animals,  and  even  material 
things,  have,  and  not  by  peoples  the  most  primitive, 
been  treated  as  rational,  responsible  and  amenable  to 
law.  This  seems  to  do  the  brutes  more  than  justice. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  philosophical  tenet  of  the  Car- 
tesians, which  denied  a  mind  to  the  brutes,  resulted  in  no 
little  cruelty.  The  treatment  of  drunkards,  and  of  the 
mentally  defective,  has,  at  times,  been  based  upon  the 


THE    i:\IPERFECT    SOCIAL  WILL        163 

notion  that  they  are  possessed  by  god  or  demon,  and, 
hence,  have  a  right  to  peculiar  consideration,  or  may 
be  treated  with  extreme  rigor. 

It  is  worth  while  to  follow  up  the  above  reference 
to  the  Cartesians  by  a  reference  to  St.  Augustine.  Trains 
of  reasoning  based  upon  theological  or  philosophical 
tenets  have  more  than  once  given  rise  to  aberrations 
of  the  moral  judgment. 

The  intellectual  subtlety  of  Augustine  betrays  him  into 
magnifying  to  enormous  proportions  the  guilt  of  the 
boyish  prank  of  stealing  green  pears  from  the  garden  of 
a  neighbor,  inspired  by  the  agreeable  thought  of  the 
irritation  which  would  be  caused  by  the  theft.  The 
pears  were  not  edible,  and  were  thrown  to  the  pigs, 
which  circumstance  seduces  this  father  of  the  Church 
into  the  reflection  that  the  sin  must  have  been  com- 
mitted for  no  other  end  than  for  the  sake  of  sinning. 
A  greater  crime  than  this  he  cannot  conceive. 

Many  j-ears  after  the  event,  in  writing  his  Confessions, 
he  expresses  in  unmeasured  terms  his  horror  of  the 
deed,  filling  seven  chapters  ^  with  his  reflections  and 
lamentations:  "Behold  my  heart,  0  God,  behold  my 
heart,  upon  which  thou  hadst  mercy  when  in  the  depths 
of  this  bottomless  pit."  "O  corruption!  0  monster  of 
life  and  depth  of  death!  Is  it  possible  that  I  liked  to 
do  what  I  might  not,  simply  and  for  no  other  reason 
than  because  I  might  not?  " 

Saint  as  he  was,  Augustine  would  have  made  a  sorry 
schoolmaster.  It  is  evident  that  the  enlightened  mind 
cannot  regard  schoolboys  as  unique  monsters  of  iniquity 
for  making  a  raid  on  an  orchard. 

3  Conjessions,  chapters  iv-x. 


164  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

The  community  whose  decisions  are  made  under  the 
influence  of  erroneous  preconceptions  undoubtedly  wills, 
but  its  will  is  determined  by  the  accident  of  ignorance. 
It  is  to  be  likened  to  the  man  who,  in  unfamiliar  sur- 
roundings, takes  the  wrong  road  in  his  desire  to  get 
home.  He  chooses,  but  he  does  not  choose  what  he 
would  if  he  knew  what  he  was  about. 

79.  Heedlessness  and  the  Social  Will.  —  Numberless 
illustrations  might  be  given  of  the  fact  that,  not  merely 
ignorance  and  error,  but  also  a  short-sighted  heedless- 
ness plays  no  small  part  in  introducing  elements  of  the 
accidental  and  irrational  into  the  social  will.  The  man 
who  spends  freely  with  no  thought  for  the  morrow  is 
not  more  irrational  than  the  state  that  permits  a  squan- 
dering of  its  resources,  and  wakes  up  too  late  only  to 
discover  that  it  has  lost  what  cannot  easily  be  replaced. 

The  life  of  the  community  is  a  long  one,  and  calls 
for  long  views  of  the  interests  of  the  community.  These 
are  too  often  lacking.  Heedlessness  and  indifference  are 
a  fertile  source  of  abuses.  In  which  case,  the  will  of  the 
community  resembles  that  of  the  impulsive  and  erratic 
man,  who  has  too  little  foresight  and  self-control  to 
consult  consistently  his  own  interests.  We  maj''  say 
that  he  desires  his  own  good  on  the  whole,  but  we  can- 
not say  that  he  desires  it  at  all  times.  Future  goods 
disappear  from  his  view.  His  choices  clash.  His  actual 
will  at  any  given  moment  appears  to  be  the  creature  of 
accident.     So  it  may  be  with  the  community. 

80.  Rational  Elements  in  the  Irrational  Will.  —  The 
actual  social  will,  as  revealed  in  custom,  law  and  public 
opinion,  often  appears,  thus,  highly  irrational,  and  we 
may  be  justified  in  distinguishing  between  it  and  the 


THE    IMPERFECT    SOCIAL  WILL        165 

real  will  which  we  conceive  of  as  struggling  to  get  itself 
expressed.  Nevertheless,  in  justice  to  custom,  law  and 
public  opinion,  we  must  look  below  the  surface  of  things. 
Even  where  the  decisions  of  the  community  seem  most 
irrational,  and  where  there  appears  to  be  little  con- 
sciousness of  the  ends  pursued  by  the  real  will,  the  dis- 
criminating observer  may  see  that  pure  irrationality  does 
not  prevail.  The  individual  may  show  by  his  actions 
that  he  has  comprehensive  ends,  and  may  yet  not  be 
distinctly  aware  of  them.  So  may  a  community  of  men. 
"  The  true  meaning  of  ethical  obligations,"  says 
Hobhouse,*  " — their  bearing  on  human  purposes,  their 
function  in  social  life  —  only  emerges  by  slow  degrees. 
The  onlooker,  investigating  a  primitive  custom,  can  see 
that  moral  elements  have  helped  to  build  it  up,  so  that 
it  embodies  something  of  moral  truth.  Yet  these  ele- 
ments of  moral  truth  were  perhaps  never  present  to  the 
minds  of  those  who  built  it.  Instead  thereof  we  are 
likely  to  find  some  obscure  reference  to  magic  or  to  the 
world  of  spirits.  The  custom  which  we  can  see,  perhaps, 
to  be  excellently  devised  in  the  interests  of  social  order 
or  for  the  promotion  of  mutual  aid  is  by  those  who 
practice  it  based  on  some  taboo,  or  preserved  from  viola- 
tion from  fear  of  the  resentment  of  somebody's  ghost." 
It  is  not  wholly  irrational  that,  in  the  laws  of  various 
peoples,  an  allowance  should  be  made  for  the  sudden 
resentment  which  flames  up  when  wrong  has  been  suf- 
fered, and  that  an  offence  grown  cold  should  be  treated 
more  leniently  than  one  which  is  fresh  and  the  smart 
caused  by  which  has  not  had  time  to  suffer  diminution. 
Society  has  to  do  with  men  as  they  are.    It  is  its  task 

*  Morals  in  Evolution,  New  York,  1906,  p.  30. 


166  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

to  bend  the  will  of  the  individual  into  conformity  with 
the  social  will.  That  resentment  for  wrongs  suffered  is 
an  important  element  in  the  establishment  of  order  in 
the  community  can  scarcely  be  denied,  nor  is  it  wholly 
unreasonable,  men  being  what  they  are,  for  the  com- 
munity to  make  some  concessions  to  the  natural  feeling 
of  the  individual.  Moreover,  the  offender  caught  in  the 
act  is  indubitably  the  real  offender;  and  settled  ani- 
mosities are  more  injurious  to  the  social  order  than  are 
fugitive  gusts  of  passion. 

And  if  it  is  true  that  the  arbitrary  laws  of  hospitality, 
as  recognized  by  some  primitive  and  half-civilized  com- 
munities, are  reinforced  by  the  superstitious  fear  of  the 
stranger's  curse,  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  they  serve 
certain  social  needs.  The  fact  that  hospitality  tends 
to  decline  when  it  becomes  superfluous  is  sufficient  to 
indicate  its  social  significance. 

Again,  collective  responsibility  —  the  making  of  a  man 
responsible  for  the  delinquencies  of  those  connected  with 
him,  even  when  he  could  in  no  way  have  prevented 
the  evils  in  question  —  appears  to  modern  civilized  man, 
in  most  instances,-""'  an  irrational  thing.  Yet  men  are 
actually  knit  into  groups  with  common  interests  and 
accustomed  to  cooperation.  To  treat  them  as  wholly 
independent  units,  responsible  only  to  some  higher  organ- 
ization such  as  the  state,  is  to  overlook  actual  relation- 
ships which  have  no  small  influence  in  determining  the 
course  of  their  lives.  Within  each  lesser  group  the 
members  can  and  do  encourage  or  repress  given  types 

°  Only  under  normal  conditions.  We  have  recently  had 
abundant  opportunity  to  see  that  in  time  of  war  civilized  nations 
have  no  scruples  in  making  the  innocent  suffer  with  the  guilty, 
or  even  for  the  guilty. 


THE    IMPERFECT    SOCIAL  WILL       167 

of  action  beneficial  or  the  reverse.  Is  it  irrational  for 
the  larger  group  to  set  such  influences  to  work  by  holding 
the  lesser  group  responsible  in  its  collective  capacity? 
In  China  the  principle  has  worked  with  some  measure 
of  success  as  an  instrument  of  order  for  many  centuries. 
In  an  enlightened  society  some  better  method  of  attain- 
ing order  may  obtain,  but  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  assume 
that  there  is  nothing  behind  the  principle  of  collective 
responsibility  save  the  unintelligent  attempt  to  satisfy 
resentment  by  striking  indirectly  at  the  offender  through 
those  connected  with  him,  or  the  mental  confusion  that 
identifies  the  culprit,  through  mere  association  of  ideas, 
with  other  members  of  the  group  to  which  he  belongs. 

81.  The  Social  Will  and  the  Selfishness  of  the  Indi- 
vidual. —  There  is,  then,  often  some  reason  to  be  dis- 
covered even  in  what  appears  at  first  sight  to  be  wholly 
irrational.  But  no  small  part  of  the  irrationality  of  the 
actual  social  will  must  be  set  down,  in  the  last  instance, 
to  that  peculiar  form  of  irrationality  in  the  individual 
or  in  groups  of  individuals  which  we  call  selfishness. 

That  some  degree  of  inequality  should  be  necessary 
in  communities  of  men,  in  view  of  the  differentiation 
of  function  implied  in  cooperative  effort,  may  be  admitted. 
How  far  the  inherited  organization  or  the  existing  en- 
vironment of  a  given  community  may  make  it  necessary, 
in  the  interests  of  all,  to  grant  a  large  measure  of  power 
or  prerogative  to  a  single  individual,  or  to  the  few,  is 
fair  matter  for  investigation.  But  the  most  cursory 
glance  at  the  pages  of  history,  the  most  superficial 
survey  of  the  present  condition  of  mankind,  must  make 
it  evident  that  a  far-seeing  and  enlightened  social  will 
has  not  been,  the  determining  factor  in  bringing  into 


168  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

existence  many  of  the  institutions  which  are  accepted  by 
the  actual  social  will  of  a  given  epoch. 

Neither  Alexander  the  Great  nor  Napoleon  can  be 
regarded  as  true  exponents  of  the  social  will.  The  rule 
of  the  oligarchy  is  based  upon  selfish  considerations. 
The  institution  of  slavery  overrides  the  will  of  the  bonds- 
man in  the  interests  of  his  possessor.  The  perennial 
struggle  between  the  "  haves  "  and  the  "  have  nots  " 
—  the  rich  and  the  poor  —  is,  unfortunately,  carried  on 
by  those  engaged  in  it  with  a  view  to  their  own  interests 
and  not  with  a  view  to  the  good  of  society  as  a  whole. 

That  those  to  whom  especial  opportunities  are,  by  the 
accident  of  their  position,  open,  or  by  whom  special 
rights  are  inherited,  should  accept  the  situation  as  right 
and  proper  is  not  to  be  wondered  at.  All  rights  and 
duties  have  their  roots  in  the  past,  and  conceptions  of 
what  is  feasible  and  desirable  are  always  influenced  by 
tradition.  While  from  the  standpoint  of  the  real  social 
will  anomalous  and  accidental  it  is  nevertheless  psy- 
chologically explicable  and  natural  that  the  mediaeval 
knight  should  be  bound  by  the  rules  of  chivalry  only  in 
his  dealings  with  those  of  his  own  rank ;  that  the  murder 
of  a  priest  should  be  regarded  as  a  crime  of  a  special 
class;  that  benefit  of  clergy  should  be  extended  to  a 
limited  number  of  those  guilty  of  the  same  offence;  that 
the  lists  of  the  deadly  sins  should,  in  an  age  dominated 
by  the  monastic  idea,  smack  so  strongly  of  the  cloister. 

Natural  it  is,  and,  perhaps,  inevitable,  that  such  ex- 
pressions of  the  social  will  should  make  their  appearance. 
They  have  their  place  in  the  historic  evolution  of  society. 
But  they  betray  the  fact  that  man  is  imperfectly  rational. 
They  cannot  be  regarded  as  expressions  of  the  permanent 
rational  will  which  belongs  to  man  as  man. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE    RATIONAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

82.  Reasonable  Ends.  —  We  have  seen  in  the  chapter 
on  "  Rationality  and  Will,"  that  we  cannot  con- 
sider a  man  rational  unless  his  choices  are  har- 
monized and  converge  upon  some  comprehensive  end. 
It  has  been  hinted,  furthermore,  that  not  all  comprehen- 
sive ends  can  be  described  as  reasonable  or  rational. 

A  child  may  be  consistently  disobedient  to  its  parents, 
and,  given  parents  of  a  certain  kind,  it  may  find  its 
life  highly  satisfactory.  A  man  may  consistently  be  a 
bad  neighbor,  and  may  harbor  the  conviction  that,  on 
the  whole,  he  gains  by  it.  A  miser  may  be  consistent; 
he  may  come  to  joy  in  denying  himself  luxuries  and 
even  comforts,  repaid  in  the  consciousness  of  an  increas- 
ing store.  The  philosophical  egoist  may  reason  with 
admirable  consistency,  and  may  habitually  act  in  accord- 
ance with  his  convictions,  leading,  for  him,  a  very 
endurable  life. 

All  these  may  be  intelligent,  even  acutely  intelligent, 
and  may  reason  clearly  and  well.  Nevertheless,  men 
generally  refuse  to  consider  their  behavior  reasonable. 
There  are  ends  which  we  regard  as  rational,  and  others 
which  we  condemn  as  irrational. 

It  is  not  enough,  hence,  that  a  man's  volitions  should 
be  intelligently  harmonized  and  unified.  His  will  must 
be  adjusted  to  ends  which  themselves  can  be  judged 
rational. 

169 


170  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

And  in  deciding  whether  the  ends  he  chooses  are 
rational  or  not,  we  proceed  just  as  we  do  in  judging 
the  rationality  of  his  individual  choices.  If  the  latter 
are  made  in  the  light  of  information,  if  their  significance 
is  realized,  if  they  converge  upon  some  comprehensive 
end  and  do  not  merely  clash  and  defeat  one  another, 
we  have  seen  that  they  are  made  under  the  guidance  of 
reason  or  intelligence.  The  individual  volitions  are 
congruous  with  the  permanent  set  of  the  man's  will. 
They  are  judged  by  their  background,  by  their  harmony 
with  the  "  pattern  ''  which  is  revealed  in  the  man's  voli- 
tional life. 

Even  so,  each  such  volitional  pattern,  the  harmonized 
and  unified  will  of  the  individual  as  directed  upon  some 
comprehensive  end,  is  judged  to  be  rational  or  not  ac- 
cording as  it  does  or  does  not  accord  with  the  ends 
pursued  by  the  social  will.  Individuals,  whose  wills  are 
thoroughly  unified  and  harmonized  by  the  dominant 
influence  of  given  chosen  ends,  may  be  thoroughly  out 
of  harmony  with  the  chosen  ends  of  the  larger  organism 
of  which  they  are  a  part.  They  may  be  out  of  harmony 
with  each  other.  Considered  alone,  each  may  display 
an  internal  order  and  unity.  Taken  together  they  may 
be  seen  to  be  in  open  strife. 

We  have  found  the  social  will  to  be  something  rel- 
atively permanent  and  moving  with  more  or  less  con- 
sistency toward  certain  comprehensive  ends.  That  the 
ends  chosen  by  given  individuals  may  be  very  much 
out  of  harmony  with  these  is  palpable.  The  deliberate 
idler,  the  whole-hearted  epicure,  the  habitually  untruth- 
ful man,  the  miser,  the  cold  egoist  —  these  and  such 
as  these    are   condemned    in   enlightened    communities. 


THE    RATIONAL    SOCIAL    WILL        171 

Their  lives  do  not  help  to  further,  but  serve  to  frustrate, 
the  ends  approved  by  the  social  will.  In  so  far  they 
may  be  regarded  as  consistently  irrational. 

83.  An  Objection  Answered.  —  Consistently  irra- 
tional! it  may  be  exclaimed;  how  can  that  be?  is  not 
a  far-sighted  consistency  the  very  mark  of  rational 
choice? 

The  difficulty  is  only  an  apparent  one.  Many  forms 
of  consistency  may  indicate  a  certain  degree  of  rational- 
ity, and  yet  too  slight  a  degree  to  win  approval.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  a  narrow  consistency.  He  who  devotes 
his  life  to  the  purpose  of  revenge,  may  live  consistently, 
but  he  loses  much.  A  bitter  and  angry  life  is  not  a  desir- 
able thing,  even  from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual. 

But  why  should  we  limit  ourselves  to  the  standpoint 
of  the  individual,  in  judging  of  the  rationality  of  ends? 
There  are  those  to  whom  it  appears  self-evident  that 
this  should  be  done;  those  to  whom  it  does  not  seem 
reasonable  for  a  man  to  do  anything  by  which  he,  on 
the  whole,  loses;  those  who  deny  the  reasonableness  of 
self-sacrifice  in  any  form.  This  doctrine  will  be  ex- 
amined later.^ 

Here  it  is  enough  to  point  out  that  men  do  not  actually 
limit  the  notion  of  rationality  in  this  way.  In  every, 
even  moderately,  rational  life  some  desires  must  be 
suppressed.  All  desires  cannot  be  satisfied.  Why  should 
it  not  be  regarded  as  rational  and  reasonable  that,  to 
attain  the  comprehensive  ends  of  the  social  will,  cer- 
tain ends  consistently  chosen  by  certain  kinds  of  individ- 
uals should  deliberately  be  denied? 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  men  generally  do  so  regard  it. 

1  See   §§    102   and   128. 


172  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

They  employ  the  terms  rational  and  irrational,  reasonable 
and  unreasonable,  to  indicate  the  harmony  or  lack  of 
harmony  between  the  individual  and  the  social  will. 
We  call  the  man  unreasonable  who  insists  upon  having 
his  ow^n  way  regardless  of  his  fellows;  and  this,  even 
in  instances  in  which  his  fellows  cannot  punish  him  for 
his  selfish  attitude. 

It  is  not  a  matter  of  accident  that  this  should  be  so. 
The  analogy  between  the  relation  of  separate  volitions 
to  the  dominant  ends  which  control  action  on  the  part 
of  the  individual,  and  the  relation  of  the  ultimate  choices 
of  individuals  to  the  ends  pursued  by  the  social  will,  is 
a  close  one.  In  the  well-ordered  mind  the  clash  of  con- 
flicting desires  is  reduced  to  a  minimum.  In  a  well- 
ordered  community  the  conflict  of  individual  wills  is 
also  reduced  to  a  minimum.  In  each  case,  we  are  con- 
cerned with  the  work  of  reason,  and  judgments  as  to 
rationality  and  irrationality  are  equally  in  place. 

84.  Reasonable  Social  Ends.  —  The  will  of  the  individ- 
ual, when  affirmed  to  be  rational  or  irrational,  is,  there- 
fore, referred  to  the  background  of  the  social  will.  But 
the  social  will  is  more  or  less  different  in  different  com- 
munities, and  in  the  one  community  at  different  stages 
of  its  development.  Is  there  any  measure  of  the  degree 
of  rationality  of  the  social  will  itself?  is  there  any  stand- 
ard to  which  its  different  expressions  may  be  referred? 

We  may  criticise  a  community  as  we  criticise  an 
individual  man  even  when  he  is  taken  as  abstracted  from 
his  social  setting.  The  man's  choices  may  be  blind,  con- 
flicting, wayward,  and  ill-adapted  to  serve  his  interests 
taken  as  a  whole.  In  the  last  chapter  we  saw  that  a 
community  may  resemble  such  a  man.    It  may  be  ig- 


THE    RATIONAL    SOCIAL    WILL        173 

norant,  superstitious,  short-sighted,  and  in  conflict  with 
itself.  The  social  will  as  actually  revealed  may  be 
an  imperfect  and  inconsistent  thing.  Here  enlighten- 
ment and  inner  harmonization  are  called  for,  to  set  the 
social  will  free. 

But  even  where  the  will  of  a  community  is  something 
more  definite  and  consistent  than  this,  it  may  be  con- 
demned by  the  moral  judgment  of  the  enlightened.  An 
appeal  may  be  made  from  the  will  of  the  community 
in  the  narrower  sense  to  that  of  the  larger  community. 
The  limits  of  nation,  race  and  religion  may  be  trans- 
cended, and  we  may  appeal  to  humanity  as  such,  re- 
fusing to  recognize  the  will  of  any  lesser  unit  as  really 
ultimate.  He  who  occupies  the  one  standpoint  is  apt  to 
speak  of  defending  his  legitimate  rights,  or  of  extending 
to  subject  races  the  blessings  of  civilization.  He  who 
takes  his  stand  upon  the  other  may  talk  of  lust  of 
dominion,  or  desire  for  economic  advantage.  The  one 
may  use  the  term  righteous  indignation;  the  other,  the 
word  anger.  The  moral  judgment  passed  upon  an  act 
depends  upon  the  concept  under  w^hich  men  manage  to 
bring  it.  What  is  approved  by  the  tribal  ethics  may  be 
abhorrent  to  the  ethics  of  humanity. 

But  the  larger  social  will,  so  far  as  it  has  gotten 
itself  expressed  at  all,  seems  to  remain  something  vague 
and  indefinite.  It  is  appealed  to  as  rational;  but  how 
indicate  clearly  the  end  which  it  sets  before  itself  and  the 
obligations   which   it   lays  upon   mankind? 

The  difiiculty  of  describing  in  detail  the  ultimate  ends 
of  the  real  social  will  has  led  some  writers  to  speak  in 
terms  of  exaggerated  vagueness.  The  mere  idea  in  a 
man  "  of  something,  he  knows  not  what,  which  he  may 


174  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

and  should  become"  can  give  little  guidance  to  action; 
nor  can  one  aim  with  much  confidence  at  a  goal  of 
which  "  we  can  only  speak  or  think  in  negatives."  ^ 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  speak  in  this  way.  We 
may  form  some  conception  of  the  real,  rational  social 
will,  without  being  compelled  to  know  all  that  man 
is  capable  of  becoming  and  without  being  able  to  fore- 
cast the  details  of  his  environment  in  the  distant  future. 

We  may  attain  to  our  conception  by  determining 
clearly  the  nature  of  the  aims  man  sets  before  himself 
in  proportion  to  his  growing  rationality.  We  can  see 
in  what  direction  man  moves  as  he  develops  and  becomes 
enlightened.  From  this  standpoint,  the  aims  of  the  ra- 
tional social  will  appear  to  be  as  follows: 

(1)  The  harmonious  satisfaction  of  the  impulses  and 
desires  of  man. 

(2)  Such  an  unfolding  of  his  powers  as  will  increase 
their  range  and  variety,  broaden  man's  horizon,  and 
give  him  an  increased  control  over  erratic  impulses. 

(3)  The  bringing  about  of  a  social  state  in  which 
the  will  of  each  individual  within  a  community  counts 
for  something,  and  not  merely  the  will  of  a  chosen  few. 

(4)  The  broadening  of  the  conception  of  what  con- 
stitutes a  community,  so  that  ever  increasing  numbers 
are  regarded  as  having  claims  that  must  be  recognized. 

(5)  The  taking  into  consideration  of  the  whole  of 
life;  the  whole  life  of  individuals  and  of  communities, 
so  that  the  insistent  present  shall  not  be  given  undue 
weight,  as  against  the  future. 

-  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  §  192,  172,  180.  But  Green  is  not 
always  so  indefinite.  He  is  on  the  right  track.  He  reverences 
the  social  will  and  the  historical  development  of  the  social  order. 


THE    RATIONAL    SOCIAL    WILL        175 

85.  The  Ethics  of  Reason.  —  The  doctrine  of  the  Ra- 
tional Social  Will  might  very  properly  be  called  the 
Ethics  of  Reason.  It  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the 
so-called  "  tribal  "  or  "  group  "  ethics.  To  be  sure,  it 
has  to  do  with  man  as  a  social  being,  but  this  is  character- 
istic of  ethical  systems  generally.  Man  is  a  social  being; 
he  is  one  essentially,  and  not  accidentally.  That  he 
should  be  a  member  of  a  tribe,  or  of  any  lesser  group 
than  the  whole  body  of  sentient  and  reasonable  beings, 
may  not  unjustly  be  regarded  as  an  historical  accident, 
as  a  function  of  his  position  in  the  scale  of  development. 

In  judging  the  doctrine  of  the  rational  social  will, 
bear  in  mind  the  following: 

(1)  It  rests  upon  the  basis  of  the  impulsive  and  vo- 
litional nature  of  man. 

(2)  It  recognizes  reason  in  the  individual,  and  declares 
that  only  so  far  as  he  is  rational  is  he  the  proper  subject 
of  ethics  at  all.  Erratic  and  uncontrolled  impulse  knows 
no  moral  law. 

(3)  It  sees  reason  in  the  customs,  laws  and  public 
opinion  of  the  tribe  or  the  state,  while  recognizing  a 
higher  tribunal  before  the  bar  of  which  all  these  are 
summoned. 

(4)  It  appeals  to  the  reason  of  the  race  —  the  reason 
appropriate  to  the  race  as  enlightened  and  freed  from 
the  shackles  of  local  prejudice  and  restricted  sympathy. 

(5)  It  recognizes  that  man  can  give  expression  to  his 
nature,  can  satisfy  his  desires  and  exercise  his  reason, 
only  as  aided  by  his  physical  and  social  environment.  It 
emphasizes  the  necessity  of  a  certain  reverence  for  the 
actual  historical  development  of  human  societies,  with 
their  institutions.    Such  institutions  are  the  embodiment 


176  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

of  reason  —  not  pure  reason,  but  reason  struggling  to 
get  itself  expressed  as  it  can.  He  who  would  legislate 
for  man  independently  of  such  institutions  has  left  the 
solid  earth  and  man  far  behind.  He  is  suspended  in 
the  void. 

86.  The  Development  of  Civilization.  —  Civilizations 
differ;  some  are  more  material,  laying  stress  upon  man's 
conquest  of  his  material  environment.  Others  exhibit 
a  greater  appreciation  of  idealistic  elements,  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge  for  its  own  sake,  the  cultivation  of  the 
fine  arts,  the  development  of  humanitarian  sentiment. 
For  civilization  in  general  it  is  not  necessary  to  advance 
an  argument.  But  there  are  elements  in  many  civili- 
zations which  the  thoughtful  man  may  feel  called  upon 
to  defend. 

Civilization,  taken  generally,  scarcely  needs  a  labored 
justification  because  it  is  only  in  a  civilization  of  some 
kind  or  other  that  we  can  look  for  a  guarantee  of  the 
broad  social  will,  for  the  reign  of  reason.  Undeveloped 
man  is  at  the  mercy  of  nature ;  he  is  the  sport  of  history. 
Where  developed  man  can  raise  his  voice,  man  possessed 
of  power  and  capable  of  taking  broad  views  of  things, 
the  rule  of  reason  may  be  set  up.  A  deliberate  attempt 
may  be  made  to  recognize  many  wills,  harmonize  dis- 
cords. Order  may  be  brought  out  of  chaos,  and  the 
limits  of  the  realm  within  the  borders  of  which  order 
reigns  may  be  indefinitely  extended. 

Such  is  the  general  ethical  justification  for  the  rise 
of  a  civilization.  It  is  an  expression  of,  and  an  instru- 
ment for  the  realization  of,  the  broader  social  will.  That 
a  given  civilization  may  be  imperfect  in  both  respects 
has  been  made  clear  in  the  last  chapter.     In  the  light 


THE    RATIONAL    SOCIAL    WILL        177 

of  the  general  justification  for  civilization  many  ques- 
tions may  be  raised  touching  this  or  that  element  in 
civilizations  as  we  observe  them. 

Thus,  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  as  man  progresses 
in  civilization  he  calls  into  being  a  multitude  of  new 
wants,  many  of  which  may  have  to  remain  unsatisfied.^ 
It  may  be  asserted  that  literature,  art  and  science  are,  in 
fact,  cherished  as  though  they  were  ends  in  themselves, 
and  not  means  called  into  existence  to  serve  the  interests 
of  man.  Absorbing  as  it  may  be  to  him,  how  can  the 
philologist  prove  that  his  science  is  useful  to  humanity 
either  present  or  prospective?  How  shall  the  astronomer, 
who  may  frankly  admit  that  he  cannot  conceive  that 
nine  tenths  of  the  work  with  which  he  occupies  himself 
can  ever  be  of  any  actual  use  to  anyone,  justify  himself 
in  devoting  his  life  to  it?  Shall  a  curiosity,  which  seems 
to  lead  nowhere,  be  satisfied?    And  if  so,  on  what  ground? 

Moreover,  everj'  civilization  recognizes  that  some  wills 
are  to  be  given  a  more  unequivocal  recognition  than 
others.  Inequality  is  the  rule.  A  man  does  not  put  his 
own  children  upon  a  level  with  those  of  his  neighbor. 
Even  in  the  most  democratic  of  states  men  do  not  stand 
upon  the  same  level.  In  dealing  with  our  own  fellows 
we  do  not  emploj^  the  same  weights  and  measures  as 
in  dealing  with  foreigners.  Who  loses  his  appetite  for  his 
breakfast  when  he  reads  that  there  have  been  inundations 
in  China  or  that  an  African  tribe  has  come  under  the 
"protection"  of  a  race  of  another  color?  The  white 
man  has  added  to  his  burden  —  the  burden  of  economic 
advantage  present  or  prospective  —  and  we  find  it  as 
it  should  be. 

3  Compare  chapter  xxx,  §   142. 


178  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

Finally,  when  we  bring  within  our  horizon  the  "  in- 
terests "  of  humbler  sentient  creatures,  we  see  that  they 
are  unhesitatingly  subordinated  to  our  own.  Some  atten- 
tion is  paid  to  them  in  civilized  communities.  They  are 
recognized,  not  merely  by  custom  and  public  opinion, 
but,  to  some  degree,  even  by  law.  Men  are  punished  for 
treating  certain  animals  in  certain  ways.  But  why? 
Have  the  animals  rights?  There  is  no  topic  within  the 
sphere  of  morals  upon  which  moralists  speak  with  more 
wavering  and  uncertain  accents.* 

I  know  of  no  way  in  which  such  problems  as  the 
above  can  be  approached  other  than  by  the  appeal  to 
reason,  as  reason  has  been  understood  in  the  pages  pre- 
ceding. The  reign  of  reason  implies  the  recognition  of 
all  wills,  so  far  as  such  a  recognition  is  within  the  bounds 
of  possibility.  The  escape  from  chaos  lies  in  the  evolution 
of  the  enlightened  social  will.  Man  must  be  raised  in 
the  scale,  in  order  that  he  may  have  control;  control 
over  himself,  over  other  men,  over  the  brutes.  And 
he  cannot  rise  except  through  the  historical  evolution 
of  a  social  order.  This  implies  the  development  of  the 
capacities  latent  in  man. 

To  decide  that  any  of  his  capacities  shall  be  allowed 
to  remain  dormant  may  threaten  future  development. 
To  cut  off  certain  arts  and  sciences  as  not  palpably 
serving  the  interests  of  man  is  a  dangerous  thing.  To 
ignore  the  actual  history  of  man's  efforts  to  become  a 
rational  being,  and  to  place,  hence,  all  wills  upon  the 
one  level,  is  to  frustrate  the  desired  end.  It  is  not  thus 
that  the  reign  of  reason  can  be  established. 

4  See  chapter  xxx,  §  141. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  INDIVIDUAL  AND  THE  SOCIAL  WILL 

87.  Man's  Multiple  Allegiance.  —  We  have  seen  that 
each  man  has  his  place  in  a  social  order.  This  order 
is  the  expression  and  the  embodiment  of  the  social  will, 
which  accepts  him,  protects  him,  gives  him  a  share  in 
the  goods  the  community  has  so  far  attained,  recog- 
nizes his  individual  will  in  that  it  accords  to  him  rights, 
and  prescribes  his  course  of  conduct,  that  is,  defines  his 
duties  or  obligations. 

The  social  will  is  authoritative;  it  issues  commands  and 
enforces  obedience.  With  its  commands  the  individual 
may  be  in  sympathy  or  he  may  not.  But  upon  obedience 
the  social  will  insists,  and  it  compasses  its  ends  by  the 
bestowal  of  rewards  or  the  infliction  of  punishment.  The 
moral  law  to  which  man  thus  finds  himself  subject  is 
something  not  wholly  foreign  to  the  nature  of  the  indi- 
vidual. It  has  come  into  being  as  an  expression  of  the 
nature  of  man.  That  nature  the  individual  shares  with 
his  fellows. 

Obedience  to  the  social  will  would  be  a  relatively 
simple  matter  were  that  will  always  unequivocally  and 
unmistakably  expressed,  and  did  all  the  members  of 
a  community  feel  the  pressure  of  the  social  will  in  the 
same  manner  and  to  the  same  degree.  But  the  whole 
matter  is  indefinitely  complicated  by  what  may  be  called 
man's  multiple  allegiance. 

179 


180  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

Organized  societies  do  not  consist  of  undifferentiated 
units.  Tliey  are  not  mere  aggregates,  but  are  highly- 
complex  in  their  internal  constitution.  A  conscientious 
man  may  feel  that  he  owes  duties  to  himself,  to  his 
immediate  family,  to  his  kindred,  to  his  neighborhood, 
to  his  social  class,  to  his  political  party,  to  his  church, 
to  his  country,  to  its  allies,  to  humanity.  The  social 
will  does  not  bring  its  pressure  to  bear  upon  the  man 
who  holds  one  place  in  the  social  order  just  as  it  does 
upon  him  who  holds  another. 

Nor  are  the  injunctions  laid  upon  a  man  always  in 
harmony.  The  demands  of  family  may  seem  to  conflict 
with  those  of  neighborhood  or  of  profession;  duties  to 
the  church  may  seem  to  conflict  with  duties  to  the  state ; 
patriotism  may  appear  to  be  more  or  less  in  conflict  with 
an  interest  in  humanity  taken  broadly.  That  the  individ- 
ual should  often  approach  in  doubt  and  hesitation  the 
decision  as  to  what  it  is,  on  the  whole,  his  duty  to  do,  is 
not  surprising.  Nor  is  it  surprising  that  individuals  the 
most  conscientious  should  find  it  impossible  to  be  at  one 
on  the  subject  of  rights  and  duties.  Two  men  may  agree 
perfectly  that  it  is  right  to  "  do  good,"  and  be  quite 
unable  to  agree  just  what  good  it  is  right  to  do  now, 
or  with  whom  one  should  make  a  beginning. 

88.  The  Appeal  to  Reason.  —  Were  there  no  appeal 
save  to  the  social  will  as  it  happens  to  make  its  pressure 
felt  upon  this  person  or  that,  in  this  situation  or  that, 
there  could  be  no  issue  to  dispute.  Dispute  would  be 
useless  and  sheer  dogmatism  would  prevail.  But  there  is 
such  an  appeal  and  men  do  make  it,  where  they  are  in 
any  degree  enlightened.    It  is  the  appeal  to  Reason. 

He  who  says:  "I  have  especial  rights,  just  because 


INDIVIDUAL    AND    THE    SOCIAL    WILL      181 

I  am  Smith,  and  so  has  my  father,  because  he  is  my 
father,"  has  no  ground  of  argument  with  Jones,  who 
says:  "  I  have  especial  rights  because  I  am  Jones,  and 
so  has  my  father,  because  he  is  my  father."  Upon  such 
a  basis,  or  lack  of  basis,  all  discussion  becomes  fatuous. 
But  if  Smith  and  Jones  agree  that  duties  to  self  should 
only  within  limits  be  recognized,  and  that  duties  to  family 
have  their  place  upon  the  larger  background  of  the  will 
of  the  state,  they  may,  at  least,  begin  to  talk. 

The  multiple  allegiance  of  the  individual  does  not 
mean  that  a  man  is  subject  to  a  multitude  of  independent 
masters  whose  several  claims  have  no  relation  to  one 
another.    An  appeal  may  be  made  from  lower  to  higher. 

We  have  seen  that,  in  the  organization  of  a  given 
society,  .the  social  will  may  be  imperfectly  expressed. 
It  may  come  about  that  the  place  in  the  social  order 
assigned  to  a  man  cramps  and  pains  him,  or  forces  him 
to  exertions  which  seem  intolerable.  He  may  passively 
accept  it,  or  he  may  set  himself  in  opposition  to  the 
social  will  as  it  is,  appealing  to  a  better  social  will.  The 
fact  that  an  individual  finds  himself  out  of  harmony 
with  given  aspects  of  the  social  will  characteristic  of 
his  age  and  country  is  no  proof  that  he  desires  to  set 
himself  up  in  opposition  to  the  social  will  in  general. 

In  a  given  instance,  he  may  be,  from  the  standpoint 
of  existing  law,  a  criminal.  Yet  he  may  reverence  the 
law  above  his  fellows.  His  aberrations  need  not  be 
arbitrary  wanderings,  prompted  by  selfish  impulses.  He 
may  leave  the  beaten  track  because  he  does  not  approve 
of  it,  which  is  a  very  different  thing  from  disliking  it. 
Some  will  judge  him  to  be  a  pestilent  fellow;  some  will 
rate  him  as  a  reformer,  a  prophet,  perhaps  a  martyr. 


182  THE    REAL    SOCIAL    WILL 

Neither  judgment  is  of  the  least  value  so  long  as  it 
reflects  merely  the  tastes  or  prejudices  of  the  individual. 
Each  must  justify  itself  before  the  bar  of  reason,  if  it 
would  have  a  respectful  hearing.  A  reason  must  be 
given  for  conservatism  and  a  reason  must  be  given  for 
reform. 

89.  The  Ethics  of  Reason  and  the  Varying  Moral 
Codes.  —  Several  advantages  may  be  claimed  for  the 
ethical  doctrine  I  have  been  advocating: 

(1)  It  gives  a  relative  justification  to  the  varying 
moral  codes  of  communities  of  men  in  the  past  and  in  the 
present.  A  code  may,  even  when  imperfect  from  some 
higher  point  of  view,  fit  well  a  community  at  a  given 
stage  of  its  development.  It  may  be  a  man's  duty  to 
obey  its  injunctions,  even  where  they  are  not  seen  to 
be  the  wisest  possible.  One  reason  for  bowing  to  custom 
is  that  it  is  custom;  one  reason  for  obeying  laws  is  that 
they  are  laws.  They  embody  the  permanence  and  stabil- 
ity of  the  social  will,  and  have  a  prima  facie  claim  to 
our  reverence. 

(2)  In  recognizing  the  social  will  as  something  deeper 
and  broader  than  the  will  of  the  individual,  as  having 
its  roots  in  the  remote  past  and  as  reaching  into  the 
distant  future,  it  admits  the  futility  of  devising  Utopian 
schemes  which  would  bless  humanity  in  defiance  of  the 
actual  expressions  of  the  social  will  revealed  in  the  de- 
velopment of  human  societies.  The  whim  of  the  individ- 
ual cannot  well  be  substituted  for  the  settled  purpose  of 
the  community  —  a  purpose  ripened  by  generations  of 
experience,  and  adjusted  to  what  is  possible  under  exist- 
ing conditions. 

(3)  On  the  other  hand,  it  distinguishes  between  lower 


INDIVIDUAL    AND    THE    SOCIAL    WILL     183 

and  higher  ethical  codes,  or  codes  lower  or  higher  in 
certain  of  their  aspects.  It  sets  a  standard  of  compar- 
ison; it  recognizes  progress  towards  a  goal. 

(4)  And,  in  all  this,  it  does  not  appear  to  decide 
arbitrarihj  either  what  is  the  goal  of  man's  moral  efforts 
or  what  means  must  be  adopted  to  attain  to  it.  It  rests 
upon  a  study  of  man;  man  as  he  has  been,  man  as  he 
is,  in  all  the  manifold  relations  in  which  he  stands  to  his 
environment,  physical  and  social. 

There  are  other  ethical  theories  in  the  field,  of  course. 
Some  of  them  are  advocated  by  men  of  original  genius 
and  of  no  little  learning.  Some  deserve  more  attention 
than  others,  but  all  should  have  a  hearing,  at  least.  A 
close  scrutiny  will  often  reveal  that  advocates  of  different 
theories  are  by  no  means  so  far  apart  as  a  hasty  reading 
of  their  works  would  suggest.  Writers  the  most  diverse 
may  assist  one  to  a  comprehension  of  one's  own  theory. 
Its  implications  may  be  developed,  objections  to  it  may 
be  suggested,  its  strong  points  may  stand  revealed.  By 
no  means  the  least  important  part  of  a  work  on  ethics 
is  its  treatment  of  the  schools  of  the  moralists.  If  it 
be  written  with  any  degree  of  fairness,  it  may  contain 
what  will  serve  the  reader  with  an  antidote  to  erroneous 
opinions  on  the  part  of  the  writer.  To  a  study  of 
the  most  important  schools  of  the  moralists  I  shall  now 
turn. 


PART  VII 
THE  SCHOOLS  OF  THE  MORALISTS 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
INTUITIONISM 

90.  What  is  it?  — "  We  come  into  the  world,"  said 
Epictetus,  "  with  no  natural  notion  of  a  right-angled 
triangle,  or  of  a  quarter-tone,  or  of  a  half-tone;  but  we 
learn  each  of  these  things  by  a  certain  transmission 
according  to  art;  and  for  this  reason  those  who  do  not 
know  them  do  not  think  that  they  know  them.  But 
as  to  good  and  evil,  and  beautiful  and  ugly,  and  becoming 
and  unbecoming,  and  happiness  and  misfortune,  and 
proper  and  improper,  and  what  we  ought  to  do  and  what 
we  ought  not  to  do,  who  ever  came  into  the  world 
without  having  an  innate  idea  of  them?  "  ^  Seneca  adds 
his  testimony  to  the  self-luminous  character  of  moral 
truth:  "Whatever  things  tend  to  make  us  better  or 
happier  are  either  obvious  or  easily  discovered."  - 

With  the  general  spirit  of  these  utterances  the  typical 
intuitionist  is  in  sympathy,  although  he  need  not  assent 
to  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  nor  need  he  hold  that 
all  moral  truths  are  equally  self-evident.  There  are 
intuitionists  of  various  classes,  and  there  are  sufficiently 
notable  differences  of  opinion.  Still,  all  intuitionists  be- 
lieve that  some  moral  truth,  at  least,  is  revealed  to  the 
individual  by  direct  inspection  (intueor),  and  that  we 
must  be  content  with  such  evidence  and  must  not  seek 

1  Discourses,  Book  II,  chapter  xi,  translation  by  George  Long. 

2  On  Benefits,  Book  VII,  chapter  i. 

187 


188     THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

for  proof.  It  may  be  maintained  that  our  moral  judg- 
ments —  or  some  of  them  —  are  the  result  of  "  an  imme- 
diate discernment  of  the  natures  of  things  by  the  under- 
standing," and  appeal  may  be  made  to  the  analogy 
furnished  by  mathematical  truths.^ 

91.  Varieties  of  Intuitionism.  —  Forms  of  intuitionism 
have  been  conveniently  classified  as  Perceptional,  Dog- 
matic and  Philosophical.^  To  this  nomenclature  it  may 
be  objected  that  the  term  "  dogmatic  "  carries  with  it 
a  certain  flavor  of  disapprobation,  and  predisposes  one 
to  the  assumption  of  a  critical  attitude,  while  the  term 
"  philosophical  "  has  the  reverse  suggestion,  and  smacks 
of  special  pleading.  While  admitting  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  objection,  I  retain  the  convenient  terms, 
merely  warning  the  reader  to  be  on  his  guard. 

(1)  Perceptional  Intuitionism  falls  back  upon  the  an- 
alogy of  perception  in  general.  I  seem  to  perceive  by 
direct  inspection  that  my  blotter  is  green,  and  that  my 
penholder  is  longer  than  my  pencil.  I  do  not  seek  for 
evidence;  I  do  not  have  recourse  to  any  chain  of  reason- 
ings to  establish  the  fact.  And  I  am  concerned  here  with 
facts,  not  with  some  general  proposition  applicable  to 
many  facts.  Even  so,  I  may  maintain  that,  in  specific 
situations,  the  rightness  or  wrongness  of  given  courses 
of  action  may  be  perceived  immediately. 

He  who  accepts  the  spontaneous  deliverances  of  his 
conscience,  when  confronted  with  the  necessity  of  making 
a  decision,  as  revelations  of  moral  truth,  may  he  called 

3  This  appeal  has  been  made  by  famous  intuitionists  from 
the  seventeenth  century  to  the  nineteenth  —  Cudworth,  More, 
Locke,  Clarke,  Price,  Whewell. 

*  SiDGWicK,  The  Methods  oj  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapter  viii,  §  4. 


INTUITIONISM  189 

a  perceptional  intuitionist.  The  deliverances  must,  how- 
ever, be  spontaneous  and  immediate,  not  the  result  of 
reasoning.  If  a  man  reasons,  if  he  falls  back  upon  gen- 
eral considerations,  if  he  looks  into  the  future  and  weighs 
the  consequences  of  his  act,  and,  as  a  result,  decides 
what  he  ought  to  do,  he  is  no  longer  a  perceptional 
intuitionist. 

The  perceptional  intuitionist,  consistently  and  unre- 
servedly such,  is  rather  an  ideal  construction  than  an 
actually  existing  person.  Most  men,  on  certain  occasions, 
are  inclined  to  say,  "  I  feel  this  to  be  right,  and  will  do 
it,  although  I  cannot  support  my  decision  by  giving  rea- 
sons." Many  men  are,  at  times,  tempted  to  maintain 
that  a  given  course  of  action  is  evidently  right  and  should 
be  followed  irrespective  of  consequences.  But  this  is 
not  the  habitual  attitude  even  of  men  very  little  gifted 
with  reflection,  and  it  is  highly  unsatisfactory  to  those 
who  have  the  habit  of  thinking. 

Primitive  man  supports  his  decisions  by  an  appeal 
to  custom.  Civilized  man  turns  to  custom,  to  law,  or  to 
general  principles  of  some  sort,  which  he  accepts  as 
authoritative,  and  which  he  regards  as  having  a  bearing 
upon  the  particular  instance  in  question.  That  individual 
decisions  should  be  capable  of  some  sort  of  justification 
by  the  adduction  of  a  reason  or  reasons  is  generally  ad- 
mitted. No  sane  man  would  maintain  the  general 
proposition  that  the  consequences  of  acts  should  be 
wholly  disregarded  in  determining  whether  they  are  or 
are  not  desirable. 

(2)  Thus,  Perceptional  Intuitionism  gives  place  to 
what  has  been  called  Dogmatic  Intuitionism  —  to  the 
doctrine  that  certain  general  moral  rules  can  be  imme- 


190     THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

diately  perceived  to  be  valid.  The  application  of  such 
general  rules  to  particular  instances  implies  discrimi- 
nation and  the  use  of  reason. 

Here  decisions  are  not  wholly  unsupported.  Reasons 
may  be  asked  for  and  given.  In  answer  to  the  question: 
Why  should  I  say  this  or  that?  it  may  be  said:  Because 
the  law  of  veracity  demands  it.  In  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion: Why  should  I  act  thus?  it  may  be  said:  Because 
it  is  just,  or  is  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  benev- 
olence. The  general  rule  is  accepted  as  intuitively  evi- 
dent, but  it  is  incumbent  upon  the  individual  to  use  his 
judgment  in  determining  what  may  properly  fall  under 
the  general  rule. 

But  there  are  rules  and  rules.  It  is  not  easy  to  draw 
a  sharp  line  between  Perceptional  Intuitionism  and  Dog- 
matic, just  as  it  is  not  easy  in  other  fields  to  distinguish 
sharply  between  knowledge  given  directly  in  perception, 
and  knowledge  in  which  more  or  less  conscious  processes 
of  inference  play  a  part.  Do  I  perceive  the  man  whom 
I  see,  when  I  look  into  a  mirror,  to  be  behind  the  mirror 
or  in  front  of  it?  Do  I  perceive  the  whereabouts  of  the 
coach  which  I  hear  rattling  by  my  window,  or  does 
reasoning  play  its  part  in  giving  me  information?  And 
if  I  follow  my  conscience  in  not  withholding  from  the 
cabman  the  small  customary  fee  in  addition  to  his  fare, 
am  I  prompted  by  an  unreasoned  perception  of  the  right- 
ness  of  my  act,  or  am  I  influenced  by  general  consider- 
ations—  the  thought  of  what  is  customary,  the  belief 
that  gratuities  should  not  be  withheld  where  services  of 
a  certain  kind  are  rendered,  etc.? 

Even  so,  it  is  difficult  to  draw  a  sharp  line  between 
Dogmatic  Intuitionists  and  Philosophical,  or  to  regard 


INTUITIONISM  191 

Dogmatic  Intuitionists  as  a  clearly  defined  class  of  any 
sort.  A  man  may  accept  it  as  self-evident  that  a  waiter 
should  receive  ten  per  cent  of  the  amount  of  his  bill; 
a  woman  may  find  it  obviously  proper  that  an  old  lady 
should  wear  purple.  Those  little  given  to  reflection  may 
accept  such  maxims  as  these  without  attempting  to 
justify  them  by  falling  back  upon  any  more  general  rule. 
We  all  find  about  us  human  beings  who  have  their  minds 
stored  with  a  multitude  of  maxims  not  greatly  different 
from  those  adduced,  and  who  find  them  serviceable  in 
guiding  their  actions.  But  thoughtful  men  can  scarcely 
be  content  with  such  a  modicum  of  reason,  and  they 
distinguish  between  ultimate  principles  and  minor  max- 
ims which  stand  in  need  of  justification  by  their  refer- 
ence to  principles. 

The  intuitional  moralists  by  profession  draw  this  dis- 
tinction. We  find  them  setting  forth  as  ultimate  a 
limited  number  of  ethical  principles  of  a  high  degree  of 
generality.  It  is  obvious  that,  the  more  general  the 
principle,  the  more  room  for  conscious  reasoning  in 
its  interpretation  and  application.  The  man  to  whom 
it  appears  as  in  the  nature  of  things  suitable  that  the 
waiter  should  receive  his  ten  per  cent  is  relieved  from 
many  perplexities  which  may  beset  the  man  who  feels 
assured  only  of  the  general  truth  that  it  is  right  to  be 
benevolent. 

A  glance  at  a  few  of  the  moralists  who  are  treated 
in  the  history  of  ethics  as  representative  intuitionists 
reveals  that  they  are  little  in  harmony  as  touching  the 
particular  moral  intuitions  which  they  urge  as  the  foun- 
dation of  ethics. 

Thus,  John  Locke  maintains  that  from  the  idea  of 


192      THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

God,  and  of  ourselves  as  rational  beings,  a  science  of 
morality  may  be  deduced  demonstratively;  a  science: 
"  wherein  I  doubt  not  but  from  self-evident  propositions, 
by  necessary  consequences,  as  incontestible  as  those  in 
mathematics,  the  measures  of  right  and  wrong  might  be 
made  out  to  anyone  that  will  apply  himself  with  the 
same  indifferency  and  attention  to  the  one,  as  he  does 
to  the  other  of  those  sciences."  ^ 

Among  Locke's  self-evident  propositions  or  moral  ax- 
ioms we  find:  where  there  is  no  property  there  is  no 
injustice;  no  government  allows  absolute  liberty;  all 
men  are  originally  free  and  equal;  parents  have  the 
power  to  control  their  children  till  they  come  of  age; 
the  right  of  property  is  based  upon  work,  but  is  limited 
by  the  supply  of  property  left  for  others  to  enjoy.® 

These  axioms  cannot  be  identified  with  Samuel  Clarke's 
four  chief  rules  of  righteousness,  which  inculcate:  piety 
toward  God,  equity  in  our  dealings  with  men,  benevo- 
lence, and  sobriety.'  Richard  Price  gives  us  still  another 
choice,  in  dwelling  upon  our  obligation  as  regards  piety, 
prudence,  beneficence,  gratitude,  veracity,  the  fulfillment 
of  promises,  and  justice. **  And  Whewcll,  emulating  the 
performance  of  Euclid,  tried  to  build  up  a  system  of 
morals  upon  axioms  embodying  the  seven  principles  of 
benevolence,  justice,  truth,  purity,  order,  earnestness, 
and  moral  purpose.^ 

°  Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding,  Book  IV, 
chapter  iii,  §  18. 

^  See  above,  chapter  iii,  §  10. 

''  A  Discourse  concerning  the  Unalterable  Relations  of  Natural 
Religion,  Prop.  I. 

8  A  Review  of  the  Principal  Questions  and  Difficulties  in 
Morals,  chapter  vii. 

°  The  Elements  of  Morality,  Book  III,  chapter  iv. 


INTUITIONISM  193 

These  moralists  press  the  analogy  of  mathematical 
truth.  It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  a  row  of 
text-books  on  geometry,  with  so  scattering  and  indefinite 
a  collection  of  axioms,  would  do  little  to  support  one 
another;  and  little  to  convince  us  that  they  represented 
a  coherent  and  consistent  body  of  truth  in  which  we 
might  have  unquestioning  faith. 

(3)  It  is  not  unnatural  that  some  thoughtful  intu- 
itionists,  dissatisfied  with  a  considerable  number  of  in- 
dependent moral  principles,  should  aim  at  a  further 
simplification.  Such  a  simplification  Kant  finds  in  the 
Categorical  Imperative,  or  unconditional  command  of  the 
Practical  Reason:  "Act  only  on  that  maxim  whereby 
thou  canst  at  the  same  time  will  that  it  should  become 
a  universal  law."  ^°  And  Henry  Sidgwick,  refusing  to 
regard  all  intuitions  as  of  equal  authority,  selects  two 
only  as  ultimately  and  independently  valid  —  that  which 
recommends  a  far-seeing  prudence,  and  that  which  urges 
a  rational  benevolence.^^  Those  who  make  their  ultimate 
moral  rules  so  broad  and  inclusive  base  upon  them  the 
multitude  of  minor  maxims  to  which  men  are  apt  to  have 
recourse  in  justifying  their  actions.  Whether  their  doc- 
trine may  be  called  philosophical  in  a  sense  implying 
commendation  is  matter  for  discussion. 

92.  Arguments  for  Intuitionism.  —  What  may  be  said 
in  favor  of  intuitionism? 

(1)  It  may  be  urged  that  it  is  the  doctrine  which 
appeals  most  directly  to  common  sense,  and  that  it  is 
found  reasonably  satisfactory  in  practice  by  men  gen- 
erally. 

1°  Fundamental  Principles  of  the  Metaphysic  of  Morals,  §  2. 
11  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  xiii,  §  3. 


194      THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

Intuition  appears  to  be.  in  fact,  man's  guide  in  an 
overwhelming  majority  of  the  situations  in  which  he 
is  called  upon  to  act.  In  the  face  of  the  concrete  sit- 
uation he  feels  that  he  should  say  a  kind  word,  help 
a  neighbor,  stand  his  ground  courageously,  speak  the 
truth,  and  a  thousand  other  things  which  a  moralist 
might,  upon  reflection,  approve. 

That  he  "  feels  "  this  does  not  mean  merely  that  he 
is  influenced  by  an  emotion.  We  constantly  employ  the 
word  to  indicate  the  presence  of  a  judgment  which  pre- 
sents itself  spontaneously  and  for  which  men  cannot  or 
do  not  seek  support  by  having  recourse  to  reasons. 

He  who,  without  reflection,  afSrms,  "  this  action  is 
right,"  has  framed  a  moral  judgment.  He  has  in  a 
given  instance  distinguished  between  right  and  wrong, 
although  he  has  not  raised  the  general  problem  of  what 
constitutes  right  and  wrong.  He  has  exercised  the  pre- 
rogative of  a  moral  being,  though  not  of  a  very  thoughtful 
one. 

We  have  seen  above,  that  perceptional  intuitionism 
tends  to  pass  over  into  dogmatic  intuitionism  of  some 
sort,  even  in  the  case  of  minds  little  developed.  The 
egoistic  rustic  may  defend  his  selfishness  by  citing  the 
proverb,  "  my  shirt  is  closer  to  me  than  my  coat."  If 
he  does  so,  it  means  that  a  doubt  has  been  suggested, 
a  conflict  of  some  sort  called  into  being.  Were  such 
conflicts,  causing  hesitation  and  deliberation,  of  very 
frequent  occurrence,  life  could  scarcely  go  on  at  all.  Con- 
versation would  be  impossible  were  no  word  placed  and 
no  inflection  chosen  without  conscious  reference  to  the 
rules  of  grammar.  No  man  could  conduct  himself  prop- 
erly in  a  drawing-room  or  at  a  table,  were  his  mind 


INTUITIONISM  195 

harking  back  at  every  moment  to  the  instructions  con- 
tained in  some  volume  on  etiquette.  He  who  must  justify 
every  act  by  reJBection  is  condemned  to  the  jerkiest  and 
most  hesitant  of  moral  lives.  Perceptional  moral  intu- 
ition must  stand  our  friend,  if  there  is  to  be  a  flow  of 
conduct  worthy  of  the  name. 

There  are,  however,  occasions  for  checking  the  flow 
by  reflection.  Then  men  are  forced  to  think,  and  we 
find  them  appealing  to  custom,  citing  proverbs,  quoting 
maxims,  taking  their  stand  upon  principles.  Recourse 
may  be  had  to  generalizations  of  a  very  low  or  of  a 
very  high  degree  of  generality. 

But  low  or  high,  it  is  upon  intuitions  that  men  actually 
fall  back  in  justifying  their  actions.  Benevolence,  jus- 
tice, honesty,  truthfulness,  purity,  honor,  modesty,  cour- 
tesy, and  what  not,  are  intuitiveh'  perceived  to  be  right, 
and  an  effort  is  made  to  bring  the  individual  act  under 
some  one  of  these  headings.  The  mass  of  men,  even  in 
enlightened  communities,  do  not  feel  impelled  to  justify 
these  general  moral  maxims,  to  reduce  them  to  a  harmo- 
nious system,  or  to  reconcile  with  each  other  the  different 
lists  of  them  which  have  been  drawn  up.  They  find 
it  possible  in  practice  to  resolve  most  of  their  doubts 
by  an  appeal  to  this  maxim  or  to  that.  From  such 
doubts  as  refuse  to  be  resolved  they  are  apt  to  turn  away 
their  attention.  But  the  moral  life  goes  on,  and  to 
intuitions  it  owes  its  guidance. 

As  to  the  few  who  reduce  the  moral  intuitions  to  a 
minimum,  and,  like  Kant  and  Sidgwick,  end  with  one  or 
two  ultimate  intuitional  moral  principles,  we  may  say 
that  they,  like  other  men,  are  compelled,  in  the  actual 
conduct  of  life,  to  turn  to  intuitions  of  lower  orders.    All 


196     THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

sorts  of  moral  intuitions  are  actually  found  helpful  by 
all  sorts  of  men. 

(2)  To  the  minds  of  men  differing  in  their  education 
and  traditions,  and  at  different  stages  of  intellectual 
and  moral  development,  very  different  moral  judgments 
spontaneously  present  themselves.  It  is  not  a  matter 
of  accident  that  this  man  may  "  feel  "  an  action  to  be 
right,  and  that  man  may  "  feel  "  it  to  be  wrong.  There 
is  evident  adaptation  of  the  judgments  to  history  and 
environment.  They  spring  into  being  because  the  men 
are  what  they  are  and  are  situated  as  they  are. 

It  is  this  adaptation  that  renders  the  moral  intuitions 
serviceable  in  carrying  on  the  actual  business  of  life. 
It  is  more  complete,  the  less  abstract  the  moral  intui- 
tions which  come  into  play.  Plato,  who  in  his  "  Laws  " 
enters  very  minutely  into  the  question  of  the  permissible 
and  the  forbidden  in  the  life  of  the  citizens  of  his  ideal 
state,  finds  it  necessary  to  leave  some  things  to  the 
judgment  of  the  individual.  Thus,  he  finds  it  impossible 
to  determine  exhaustively  what  things  are,  and  what 
things  are  not,  worthy  of  a  freeman.  He  leaves  it  to 
the  virtuous  to  give  judgments  "  in  accordance  with 
their  feelings  of  right  and  wrong."  ^-  The  intuitions  of 
the  mediaeval  saint,  of  the  upright  modern  European,  of 
the  virtuous  Chinaman,  would  have  impressed  him  as 
without  rhyme  or  reason.  He  appealed  to  the  Greek 
gentleman,  whose  sense  of  propriety  was  Greek,  and 
might  be  expected  to  be  adjusted  to  the  situation. 

(3)  The  intuitive  judgment  of  a  sensitive  moral  nature 

may  often  be  more  nearly  right  than  moral  judgments 

based  upon  the  most  subtle  of  reasonings. 

12  Book  XI;  see  the  account  of  the  occupations  permissible 
to  the  landed  proprietor. 


INTUITIONISM  197 

It  is  not  hard  to  find,  with  a  little  ingenuity,  apparent 
justification  for  actions  which  the  consciences  of  the 
enlightened  condemn  at  first  sight.  Scarcely  any  action 
may  not  be  brought  under  some  moral  rule,  if  one  delib- 
erately sets  out  to  do  so.  A  narrow  selfishness  is  de- 
fended as  caring  for  one's  own;  a  refusal  of  aid  to  the 
needy  is  justified  by  a  reference  to  the  evils  of  pauper- 
ization; patriotism  becomes  the  excuse  for  hatred,  wilful 
blindness  and  untruthful  vilification.  To  the  soph- 
istries of  those  who  would  thus  make  the  worse  appear 
the  better,  the  intuitive  judgment  of  the  moral  man 
opposes  its  unreasoned  conviction.  That  the  conviction 
is  not  supported  by  arguments  does  not  prove  that  it  is 
not  a  just  one. 

93.  Arguments  Against  Intuitionism.  —  What  may  be 
urged  against  Intuitionism? 

(1)  It  may  be  pointed  out  that  such  considerations  as 
the  above  constitute  an  argument  to  prove  the  value  of 
moral  intuitions,  and  not  one  to  prove  the  value  of 
intuitionism  as  an  ethical  theory.  That  moral  intuitions 
are  indispensable  may  be  freely  admitted  even  by  one 
who  demurs  to  the  doctrine  that  intuitionism  in  some 
one  of  its  forms  may  be  accepted  as  a  satisfactory 
theory  of  morals. 

(2)  Perceptional  Intuitionism,  at  least,  cannot  be  re- 
garded as  embodying  a  rational  theory  or  furnishing  a 
science  of  any  sort.  Its  one  and  only  dogma  must  be 
that  whatever  actions  reveal  themselves  to  this  man 
or  that  as  right,  are  right,  and  there  is  no  going  behind 
the  judgment  of  the  individual. 

Shall  we  say  to  men:  "  In  order  to  know  what  is  right 
and  what  is  wrong  in  human  conduct,  we  need  only  to 


198      THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

listen  to  the  dictates  of  conscience  when  the  mind  is  calm 
and  unruffled  "?  ^^  As  well  say:  "  The  right  time  is  the 
time  indicated  by  your  watch,  when  you  are  not  shaking 
it."  If  men  are  to  keep  appointments  with  each  other, 
they  must  have  some  other  standard  of  time  than  that 
carried  by  each  man  in  his  vest-pocket. 

Perceptional  Intuitionism  ignores  the  fact  that  con- 
sciences may  sometimes  disagree,  and  that  there  may  be 
a  choice  in  consciences.  The  consistent  perceptional  in- 
tuitionist  is,  however,  scarcely  to  be  found,  as  has  been 
said  above;  and  we  actually  find  those,  some  of  whose 
utterances  read  as  though  the  authors  ought  to  be  ad- 
herents of  such  a  school,  dwelling  upon  the  desirability 
of  the  education  of  the  conscience,  i.e.,  upon  the  desir- 
ability of  acquiring  a  capacity  for  having  the  right 
intuitions.  In  other  words,  they  tell  us  to  follow  our 
noses  —  but  to  make  sure  that  they  point  in  the  right 
direction.^*  In  which  case  the  determination  of  the 
right  direction  is  not  left  to  perceptional  intuition. 

(3)  The  Dogmatic  Intuitionist  has  difficulties  of  his 
own  with  which  to  cope.  It  is  not  enough  to  possess  a 
collection  of  valid  and  authoritative  rules.  The  rules 
must  be  applied;  there  is  room  for  the  exercise  of  judg- 
ment and  for  the  possibility  of  error.  Error  is  not  ex- 
cluded even  when  the  rule  appears  to  be  at  only  one  or 
two  removes  from  the  individual  instance ;  where  the  rule 
is  one  of  great  generality  the  prol)lem  of  its  application 
becomes  correspondingly  difficult.  The  interpretation  of 
the  rule  is  not  given  intuitively  with  the  rule.  This 
means  that  the  rule  must,  in  practice,  bo  supplemontod. 

^3  Thomas  Reid,  E.'^says  on  the  Artire  Powers  oj  Man,  v,  §4. 
^*  See  Thomas  Reid,  Essays  on  the  Active  Powers  oj  Man, 
iii,  Part  3.  §  8. 


INTUITIONISM  199 

Always  and  everywhere,  a  straight  line  appears  to  be 
the  shortest  distance  between  two  points.  What  is  meant 
by  shortness  hardly  seems  to  be  legitimate  matter  for 
dispute.  But  the  man  convinced  that  he  ought  to  pay 
his  workman  a  fair  wage,  and  that  he  ought  to  do  his 
duty  by  his  son,  may  be  in  no  little  perplexity  when 
he  attempts  to  define  that  fair  wage  or  that  parental 
duty.  If  he  turns  for  advice  to  others,  he  will  find  that 
history  and  tradition,  time,  place  and  circumstance, 
very  perceptibly  color  the  advice  they  offer. 

The  application  of  the  general  rule  is,  hence,  quite  as 
important  as  the  rule.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  conduct 
in  the  abstract.  Let  us  admit  that  benevolence  is  morally 
obligatory.  How  shall  we  be  benevolent?  Shall  we 
follow  Cicero,  and  give  only  that  which  costs  us  nothing? 
or  shall  we  emulate  St.  Francis?  The  general  rule  may 
be  a  faultless  skeleton,  but  it  is,  after  all,  only  a  skel- 
eton, and  it  cannot  walk  of  itself. 

Again.  The  dogmatic  intuitionist  has  quite  a  col- 
lection of  rules  by  which  he  must  judge  of  his  actions. 
They  are  severally  independent  and  authoritative.  Sup- 
pose an  act  appears  to  be  commanded  by  one  rule  and 
forbidden  by  another?  Who  shall  decide  between  them? 
Prudence  and  benevolence  may  urge  him  in  opposite 
directions.  Benevolence  and  justice  may  not  obviously 
be  in  harmony.  The  rule  of  veracity  may  seem,  at  times, 
to  prescribe  conduct  which  will  entail  much  suffering 
on  the  part  of  the  innocent.  To  what  court  of  appeal 
can  we  refer  the  conflicts  which  may  arise  when  ultimate 
authorities  disagree?  He  who,  in  war  time,  can  con- 
scientiously shoot  a  sentry,  but  cannot  conscientiously 
lie  to  him,  may,  later,  have  his  misgivings,  when  the 
Golden  Rule  knocks  at  the  gate  of  his  mind. 


200       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

(4)  Nor  does  he  leave  all  difficulties  behind  him,  who 
abandons  Dogmatic  Intuitionism  and  takes  refuge  in 
Philosophical. 

Kant's  maxim  needs  a  vast  amount  of  interpretation. 
As  it  stands,  it  is  little  more  than  an  empty  formula. 
What  I  can  wish  to  be  the  law  of  the  universe  must 
depend  very  much  upon  what  I  am.  The  lion  and  the 
lamb  do  not  thirst  for  the  same  law.  To  the  quarrel- 
some heroes  of  Walhalla  a  world  of  perpetual  fighting 
and  feasting  must  seem  a  very  good  world,  in  spite  of 
knocks  received  as  well  as  given.  Kant's  fundamental 
maxim  scarcely  appears  to  be  a  moral  rule  at  all,  unless 
we  make  it  read:  "  Act  on  a  maxim  which  a  wise  and  good 
man  can  will  to  be  a  universal  law."  But  how  decide 
who  is  the  wise  and  good  man? 

The  philosophical  intuitionist  who  accepts  more  than 
one  ultimate  moral  rule  must  face  the  possibility  that 
he  will  meet  with  a  conflict  of  the  higher  intuitions  to 
which  he  has  had  recourse.  Shall  his  intuitions  be  those 
recommending  a  rational  self-interest  and  a  rational 
benevolence?  Can  he  be  sure  that  the  two  are  neces- 
sarily in  accord?  Can  there  be  a  rational  adjustment 
of  the  claims  of  each?  Not  if  there  be  no  court  of  appeal 
to  which  both  intuitions  are  subject.^ ^ 

Furthermore,  between  the  philosophical  and  the  dog- 
matic intuitionist  serious  differences  of  opinion  may  be 
expected  to  arise.  He  who  makes,  let  us  say,  benevolence 
the  supreme  law  naturally  allows  to  other  intuitions, 
such  as  justice  and  veracity,  but  a  derivative  authority. 

15  With  his  usual  candor,  Sidgwick  admits  this  difficulty.  He 
leaves  it  unresolved.  See,  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  in  the  con- 
cluding chapter. 


INTUITIONISM  201 

It  appears,  then,  that  there  may  be  occasions  on  which 
they  are  not  valid.  To  some  famous  intuitionists  this 
has  seemed  to  be  a  pernicious  doctrine. 

"  We  are,"  writes  Bishop  Butler,  "  constituted  so  as  to 
condemn  falsehood,  unprovoked  violence,  injustice,  and 
to  approve  of  benevolence  to  some  preferably  to  others, 
abstracted  from  all  consideration,  which  conduct  is  like- 
liest to  produce  an  overbalance  of  happiness  or  misery."  ^^ 

Butler  thought  that  justice  should  be  done  though 
the  heavens  fall;  the  philosophical  intuitionist  must 
maintain  that  the  danger  of  bringing  down  the  heavens 
is  never  to  be  lost  sight  of.  But  this  doctrine  that  there 
are  intuitions  and  intuitions,  some  ultimately  authori- 
tative and  others  not  so,  raises  the  whole  question  of 
the  validity  of  intuitions.  How  are  we  to  distinguish 
those  that  are  always  valid  from  others?  By  intuition? 
Intuition  appears  to  be  discredited.  And  if  it  is  proper  to 
demand  proof  that  justice  should  be  done  and  the  truth 
spoken,  why  may  one  not  demand  proof  that  men  should 
be  prudent  and  benevolent?  One  may  talk  of  "  an  imme- 
diate discernment  of  the  nature  of  things  by  the  under- 
standing "  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  If  error  is 
pwDssible  there,  why  not  here? 

94.  The  Value  of  Moral  Intuitions.  —  It  would  not 
be  fair  to  close  this  chapter  on  intuit ionism,  an  ethical 
theory  competing  with  others  for  our  approval,  without 
emphasizing  the  value  of  the  role  played  by  the  moral 
intuitions. 

They  are  the  very  guide  of  life,  and  without  them  our 
reasonings  would  be  of  little  service.     They  should  be 

16  Dissertations  appended  to  the  "  Analogy,"  II,  0/  the  Nature 
of  Virtue.  Cf.  Dlgald  Ste\v.\ht,  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy, 
Part  2,  §348. 


202       THE    SCHOOLS    OP    THE    MORALISTS 

treated  gently,  gratefully,  with  reverence.  To  them 
human  societies  owe  their  stability,  their  capacity  for 
an  orderly  development,  the  smooth  working  of  the 
machinery  of  daily  life.  Their  presence  does  not  exclude 
the  employment  of  reasoning,  but  they  furnish  a  basis 
upon  which  the  reason  can  occupy  itself  with  profit. 
They  are  a  safeguard  against  those  Utopian  schemes 
which  would  shatter  our  world  and  try  experiments  in 
creation  out  of  nothing. 

Nevertheless,  he  who  busies  himself  with  ethics  as 
science  must  study  them  critically  and  strive  to  esti- 
mate justly  their  true  significance.  He  may  come  to 
regard  them,  not  as  something  fixed  and  changeless,  but 
as  living  and  developing,  coming  into  being,  and  modi- 
fying themselves,  in  the  service  of  life.  Does  he  dis- 
honor them  who  so  views  them? 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
EGOISM 

95.  What  is  Egoism?  —  Egoism  has  been  defined  as 
"  am'  ethical  system  in  which  the  happiness  or  good 
of  the  individual  is  made  the  main  criterion  of  moral 
action."  ^  or  as  "  the  doing  or  seeking  of  that  which 
affords  pleasure  or  advantage  to  oneself,  in  distinction  to 
that  which  affords  pleasure  or  advantage  to  others."  - 

It  may  strike  the  average  reader  as  odd  to  be  told  that 
such  definitions  bristle  with  ambiguities,  and  that  it  is 
by  no  means  easy  to  draw  a  sharp  line  between  doctrines 
which  everyone  would  admit  to  be  egoistic,  and  others 
which  seem  more  doubtfully  to  fall  under  that  head. 
"  Happiness,"  "  good,"  "  advantage,"  "  self,"  all  are  terms 
which  call  for  scrutiny,  and  which  set  pitfalls  for  the 
unwar}'. 

96.  Crass  Egoisms.  —  We  may  best  approach  the  sub- 
ject of  what  may  properly  be  regarded  as  constituting 
egoism,  by  turning  first  to  one  or  two  "  terrible  examples." 

No  one  would  hesitate  to  call  egoistic  the  doctrine  of 
Aristippus,  the  Cyrenaic,  the  errant  disciple  of  Socrates. 
He  made  pleasure  the  end  of  life,  and  taught  that  it 
might  be  sought  without  a  greater  regard  to  customary 
morality  than  was  made  prudent  by  the  penalties  to 
be  feared  as  a  consequence  of  its  violation.    "Where  the 

1  Encyclopedia   Britannka,   11th   edition. 

2  Century  Dictionary. 

203 


204<       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

centre  of  gravity  of  the  system  of  the  Cyrenaics  falls 
is  evident  from  their  holding  that  "  corporeal  pleasures 
are  superior  to  mental  ones,"  and  that  "  a  friend  is 
desirable  for  the  use  which  we  can  make  of  him."  ^ 

The  doctrine  of  the  English  philosopher,  Thomas 
Hobbes,  is  as  unequivocally  egoistic. 

"  Of  the  voluntary  acts  of  every  man,"  he  writes,* 
the  object  is  some  good  to  himself;"  and  again,^  "no 
man  giveth,  but  with  intention  of  good  to  himself;  because 
gift  is  voluntary;  and  of  all  voluntary  acts  the  object 
is  to   every  man  his   own   good." 

He  leaves  us  in  no  doubt  as  to  the  sort  of  good  which  he 
conceives  men  to  seek  when  they  practice  what  has  the 
appearance  of  generosity.  Contract  he  calls  a  mutual 
transference  of  rights,  and  he  distinguishes  gift  from 
contract  as  follows: 

"  "When  the  transferring  of  right  is  not  mutual,  but  one 
of  the  parties  transferreth,  in  hope  to  gain  thereby 
friendship,  or  service  from  another,  or  from  his  friends, 
or  in  hope  to  gain  the  reputation  of  charity  or  mag- 
nanimity, or  to  deliver  his  mind  from  the  pain  of  com- 
passion, or  in  hope  of  reward  in  heaven,  this  is  not  con- 
tract but  gift,  free  gift,  grace,  which  words  signify  the 
same  thing." " 

There  is  a  passage  from  the  pen  of  the  British  divine, 

3  Diogenes  Laertius,  Lives  of  the  Philosophers,  "  Aristippus," 
viii. 

*  Leviathan,  Part  I,  xiv. 

^  Ibid.  XV. 

^  Ibid.  I,  xiv.  The  italics  are  mine.  It  was  thus  that  Hobbes 
accounted  for  his  giving  a  sixpence  to  a  beggar:  "  I  was  in  pain 
to  consider  the  miserable  condition  of  the  old  man;  and  now 
my  alms,  giving  him  some  relief,  doth  also  ease  me."  Hobbes, 
by  G.  C.  Robertson,  Edinburgh,  1886,  p.  206. 


EGOISM  205 

Paley,  which  appears  to  merit  a  place  alongside  of  the 
citations  from  Hobbes,  widely  as  the  men  differ  in  many 
of  their  views.     It  reads: 

"  We  can  be  obliged  to  nothing  but  what  we  ourselves 
are  to  gain  or  lose  something  by;  for  nothing  else  can 
be  a  '  violent  motion  '  to  us.  As  we  should  not  be  obliged 
to  obey  the  laws,  or  the  magistrate,  unless  rewards 
or  punishments,  pleasure  or  pain,  somehow  or  other, 
depended  upon  our  obedience;  so  neither  should  we, 
without  the  same  reason,  be  obliged  to  do  what  is  right, 
to  practice  virtue,  or  to  obey  the  commandments  of 
God." ' 

97.  Equivocal  Egoism?  —  The  above  is  unquestion- 
ably egoism.  The  man  who  accepts  such  a  doctrine  and 
consistently  walks  in  the  light  must  be  set  down  as  self- 
seeking.  But  self-seeking,  as  understood  by  different 
men,  appears  to  take  on  different  aspects.  Shall  we 
class  all  those  who  frankly  accept  it  as  man's  only  ulti- 
mate motive  with  Aristippus  and  Epicurus  and  Hobbes? 

Thomas  Hill  Green  writes:  "Anything  conceived  as 
good  in  such  a  way  that  the  agent  acts  for  the  sake  of  it, 
must  be  conceived  as  his  own  good."  ^  The  motive  to 
action  is,  he  maintains,  always  "  some  idea  of  the  man's 
personal  good." "  He  does  not  hesitate  to  say  that  a 
man  necessarily  lives  for  himself ;"  and  he  calls  "  the 
human  self  or  the  man  "  "  a  self-seeking  ego,  a  self- 
seeking  subject,  and  a  self-seeking  person.^ - 

Were  Green's  book  a  lost  work,  only  preserved  to  the 

"^  Moral  Philosophy,  Book  II,  chapter  ii. 

8  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  92. 

9  §  §  95,  97. 

10  §  138.  "  §  99.  12  §  §  98,   100,   145. 


206       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

memories  of  men  by  such  citations  as  the  above,  the 
author  would  certainly  be  relegated  to  a  class  of  moral- 
ists with  which  he  had,  in  fact,  little  sympathy. 

But  the  book  is  not  lost,  and  by  turning  to  it  we  find 
Green  continuing  the  first  of  the  above  citations  with 
the  words:  "  Though  he  may  conceive  it  as  his  own  good 
only  on  account  of  his  interest  in  others,  and  in  spite  of 
any  amount  of  suffering  on  his  own  part  incidental  to 
its  attainment."  He  is  willing  to  grant  the  self-seeking 
ego  an  eye  single  to  its  own  interests,  but  he  is  careful 
to  explain  that:  ''  These  are  not  merely  interests  depend- 
ent on  other  persons  for  the  means  to  their  gratification, 
but  interests  in  the  good  of  those  other  persons,  interests 
which  cannot  be  satisfied  without  the  consciousness  that 
those  other  persons  are  satisfied."  ^^ 

When  Hobbes  gave  an  account  of  "  the  passions  that 
incline  men  to  peace,"  ^*  he  made  no  mention  of  the 
social  nature  of  man.  That  nature  Green  conceives  to  be 
so  essentially  social  that  the  individual  cannot  disen- 
tangle his  own  good  from  the  good  of  his  fellows.  To 
live  "  for  himself,"  since  that  self  is  a  social  self,  means 
to  live  for  others.  May  this  fairly  be  called  egoistic 
doctrine? 

98.  What  is  Meant  by  the  Self?  —  It  is  sufficiently 
clear  that  the  happiness,  or  good,  or  advantage,  or  inter- 
ests of  the  individual  or  self  may  mean  many  things.  It 
is  equally  clear  that  in  our  interpretation  of  all  such 
terms  our  notions  of  the  nature  of  the  self  will  play 
no  inconsiderable  role.    What  is  the  self? 

In  his  famous  chapter  on  the  Consciousness  of  Self," 

"  §  199. 

1*  Leviathan,  I,  xiii. 

15  Psychology,  New  York,   1890,  I,  chapter  x. 


EGOISM  207 

William  James  enumerates  four  senses  of  the  word. 
With  three  of  these  we  may  profitably  occupy  ourselves 
here.  He  calls  them  the  Material  Self,  the  Social  Self 
and  the  Spiritual  Self. 

The  innermost  part  of  the  material  self  he  makes 
our  body,  and  next  to  it,  in  their  order,  he  places  our 
clothes,  our  family,  our  home,  and  our  property.  They 
contribute  to  our  being  what  we  are  in  our  own  eyes, 
we  identify  ourselves  with  them,  and  we  experience  "  a 
sense  of  the  shrinkage  of  our  personality  "  when  even 
the  more  outlying  elements,  such  as  our  possessions,  are 
lost.  "  Our  immediate  family,"  he  writes,  "  is  a  part  of 
ourselves.  Our  father  and  mother,  our  wife  and  babes, 
are  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh.  When  they 
die,  a  part  of  our  very  selves  is  gone.  If  they  do  any- 
thing wrong,  it  is  our  shame.  If  they  are  insulted,  our 
anger  flashes  forth  as  readily  as  if  we  stood  in  their 
place." 

It  is  obvious  that  the  limits  of  the  material  self,  as 
above  understood,  may  be  indefinitely  extended.  There 
are  men  who  feel  about  their  country  as  the  average 
normal  man  feels  about  his  home;  and  doubtless  the 
suffering  of  a  stray  beggar  tugged  at  the  heart  of  St. 
Francis  as  the  misfortune  of  wife  or  child  does  in  the 
case  of  other  men.  How  far  abroad  our  "  interests  "  are 
to  be  found,  and  just  what  "  interests  "  we  shall  regard 
as  intimately  and  peculiarly  our  own,  depends  upon  what 
we  are. 

The  Social  Self  James  describes  as  the  recognition  a 
man  gets  from  his  mates:  "  We  are  not  only  gregarious 
animals,  liking  to  be  in  the  sight  of  our  fellows,  but  we 
have  an  innate  propensity  to  get  ourselves  noticed,  and 


208     THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

noticed  favorably,  by  our  kind."  Men  certainly  regard 
their  fame  or  honor  as  to  be  included  among  their  inter- 
ests, and  they  may  value  and  seek  to  obtain  the  good 
opinion  of  a  very  little  clique  or  of  a  much  wider  circle. 

By  the  Spiritual  Self  is  meant  our  qualities  of  mind 
and  character  —  "  the  most  enduring  and  intimate  part 
of  the  Self,  that  which  we  most  verily  seem  to  be."  Our 
interest  in  these  it  is  impossible  to  overlook,  and  their 
cultivation  and  development  may  become  a  ruling 
passion. 

James's  illuminating  pages  make  clear  that  he  who 
speaks  of  the  advantage  or  interest  of  the  individual 
may  have  in  mind  predominantly  any  one  of  these  aspects 
of  the  Self,  or  all  of  them  conjointly.  The  Self  as  he 
conceives  it  may  be  a  narrow  one,  or  it  may  be  a  very 
broad  one. 

99.  Egoism  and  the  Broader  Self.  —  It  may  with 
some  plausibility  be  maintained  that  he  who  lives  for 
himself  may  not  properly  be  regarded  as  an  egoist  and 
called  selfish,  if  his  Self  is  sufficiently  expanded.  May 
it  not,  theoretically,  include  as  much  of  the  universe  as 
is  known  to  man?  And  where  can  a  man  seek  ends  of 
any  sort  beyond  this  broad  field?  On  this  view,  all  men 
are,  in  a  sense,  self-seeking,  but  only  those  are  repre- 
hensibly  self-seeking  who  have  narrow  and  scanty  selves. 

But  common  sense  and  the  common  usage  of  speech 
do  not  sanction  such  statements  as  that  a  man  neces- 
sarily lives  for  himself  and  that  all  men  are  self-seeking. 
It  is  justly  recognized  that  some  men  with  broad  inter- 
ests —  of  a  sort  —  are  self-seeking,  and  that  some  others 
with  great  limitations  are  not. 

He  who  has  property  scattered  over  four  continents 


EGOISM  209 

and  watches  with  absorbing  interest  all  movements  upon 
the  political  and  economic  stage  may  nevertheless  be  a 
thorough-going  egoist.  The  breadth  of  his  horizon  will 
not  redeem  him.  One  may  look  far  afield  and  live 
laborious  days  in  the  pursuit  of  fame,  and  be  egoistic  to 
the  back-bone,  although  one's  interests,  in  this  case, 
include  even  the  contents  of  the  minds  of  generations 
yet  unborn.  One  may  forego  many  pleasures  and  con- 
centrate all  one's  efforts  upon  the  attainment  of  intellec- 
tual eminence  or  of  a  virtuous  character,  and  yet  seem 
to  have  a  claim  to  the  name  of  egoist. 

That  even  the  pursuit  of  virtue  may  take  an  egoistic 
turn  has  frequently  been  recognized:  "Woe  betides 
that  man,"  writes  Dewey,  "  w^ho  having  entered  upon  a 
course  of  reflection  which  leads  to  a  clearer  conception 
of  his  own  moral  capacities  and  weaknesses,  maintains 
that  thought  as  a  distinct  mental  end,  and  thereby  makes 
his  subsequent  acts  simply  means  to  improving  or  per- 
fecting his  moral  nature."  ^^  He  characterizes  this  as 
one  of  the  worst  kinds  of  selfishness.  The  task  set  him- 
self by  the  egoist  who  aims  at  outshining  his  fellows 
in  an  unselfish  self-forgetfulness  would  seem  to  be  a 
particularly  difficult  one;  3'et  we  have  all  met  persons 
who  appear  to  be  animated  by  some  such  desire. 

100.  Egoism  not  Unavoidable.  —  On  such  cases  as  the 
above  the  common  judgment  can  hardly  be  in  doubt. 
But  there  are  cases  more  questionable.  Was  Hobbes 
really  self-seeking  when  he  gave  the  sixpence  to  the 
old  beggar?  Is  it  egoism  that  leads  the  young  mother 
to  give  herself  the  exquisite  pleasure  of  feeding  and 
caring   for  her  babes?  or  that  induces  the   patriot  to 

16  Ethics,  chapter  xviii,  §  3,  p.  384. 


210       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

die  for  his  country?  To  be  sure,  both  the  babes  and  the 
fatherhmd  may  fall  within  the  limits  of  the  self,  as 
the  psychologist  has  broadly  defined  it. 

But  they  fall  within  it  only  in  a  sense.  No  doctrine 
of  the  mutual  inclusion  of  selves  can  obliterate  the  dis- 
tinction between  self  and  neighbor,  and  make  my 
neighbor  merely  a  part  of  myself.  The  common  opinion 
of  mankind  is  not  at  fault  in  basing  upon  the  distinction 
between  selves  the  further  distinction  between  egoism 
and  altruism.  Whatever  interests  the  egoist  may  have, 
his  ultimate  motive  to  action  cannot  be  the  recognition 
of  the  desire  or  will  of  another.  Such  can  be  the  motive 
of  the  altruist. 

Human  motives  are  of  many  sorts,  and  just  what  they 
are  it  is  not  always  easy  to  discover.  Cornelia,  in  ex- 
hibiting her  "  jewels,"  may  have  been  puffed  up  with 
pride.  When  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  threw,  with  a  noble  ^ 
gesture,  his  purse  to  the  players,  his  "  Mais  quel  geste!  " 
reveals  that  he  was  a  player  himself  and  was  "  showing 
off."  There  may  be  spectacular  patriots,  who  are  willing 
to  suffer  the  extreme  penalty  for  the  sake  of  a  place  in 
history.  But  all  maternal  affection  is  not  identical  with 
pride;  all  generous  impulses  cannot  be  traced  to  vanity; 
all  patriotism  is  not  spectacular;  nor  is  the  motive  to 
the  relief  of  suffering  necessarily  the  removal  of  one's 
own  pain.  It  is  one  thing  to  hire  Lazarus  not  to  exhibit 
himself  in  his  shocking  plight  on  our  front  porch,  and 
it  is  a  distinctly  different  thing  to  be  concerned  about 
the  needs  of  Lazarus  'per  se. 

It  is  obvious,  then,  that  it  is  only  by  a  straining  of 
language  that  one  can  say  that  man  necessarily  lives 
for  himself,   or  is  unavoidably   self-seeking.     He  who 


EGOISM  211 

makes  such  statements  overlooks  the  fact  that,  even  if 
is  true  that,  in  a  sense,  a  man's  self  may  be  regarded 
as  coextensive  with  all  that  interests  him,  it  is  equally- 
true  that  different  selves  are  mutually  exclusive  and  that 
the  good  of  one  may  serve  as  the  ultimate  motive  in 
determining  the  action  of  another.  The  ethnologist  is 
compelled  to  recognize  altruistic  impulses  in  men  prim- 
itive and  in  men  civilized:  '''  Of  the  doctrine  of  self- 
interest  as  the  primary  and  only  genuine  human  motive, 
it  is  sufficient  to  say  that  it  bears  no  relation  to  the 
facts  of  human  nature,  and  implies  an  incorrect  view  of 
the  origin  of  instinct."  ^' 

101.  Varieties  of  Egoism,  —  The  egoist  may  set  his 
affections  upon  pleasure,  and  become  a  representative 
of  Egoistic  Hedonism,  the  variety  of  egoism  normally 
treated  as  typical  and  made  the  subject  of  criticism  in 
ethical  treatises.  But  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  him 
from  making  his  aim,  not  so  much  pleasure,  as  self- 
preservation;  or  from  taking  as  his  goal  wealth, 
power,  reputation,  intellectual  or  moral  attainment,  or 
what  not.^* 

So  long  as  the  motives  which  impel  him  to  get,  to 
avoid,  to  be,  or  to  do,  something,  do  not  include,  except  as 
means  to  some  ulterior  end,  the  desire  or  will  of  his  fel- 
low-man, there  appears  no  reason  to  deny  him  the  title 
of  "  Egoist."  Nor  need  we  deny  him  the  title  because 
he  may  be  unconscious  of  his  egoism.  There  are  uncon- 
scious egoists  who  are  wholly  absorbed  in  the  individual 

^^  HoBHOXTSE,  Moral-t  in  Evolution,  p.   16 

^*  Thus,  Hobbes  made  his  end  self-preservation;  Spinoza  takes 
much  the  same  position;  Nietzsche  makes  that  which  is  aimed 
at,   power. 


212       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

objects  which  are  the  end  of  their  strivings.  They  may 
be  quite  unaware  that  they  are  ruled  by  self-interest, 
when  it  is  clear  to  the  spectator  that  such  is  the  case,^* 
But  the  philosophical  egoist  must  rise  to  a  higher  plane 
of  reflection. 

There  are,  thus,  egoisms  of  many  sorts,  and  they  may 
urge  men  to  very  different  courses  of  conduct.  Some  of 
them  may  pass  over  more  naturally  than  others  into 
forms  of  doctrine  which  are  not  egoistic  at  all.  He  who 
aims  at  a  maximum  of  pleasure  for  himself  is  likely  to 
remain  an  egoist;  he  whose  ambition  is  to  be  a  patron 
of  science  or  a  philanthropist,  may,  it  is  true,  remain 
within  the  circle  of  the  self,  but  it  is  quite  possible  that 
his  ulterior  aim  may  come  to  be  forgotten  and  his  real 
interest  be  transferred  to  the  enlightenment  of  mankind 
or  to  the  relief  of  suffering. 

It  is  especially  worthy  of  remark  that  in  judging  a 
system  of  doctrine  we  must  take  it  as  a  whole,  and 
not  confine  ourselves  to  a  few  utterances  of  the  man 
who  urges  it,  however  unequivocal  they  may  appear  when 
taken  in  isolation.  He  whose  motive  to  action  is  always 
some  idea  of  his  own  personal  good  is  an  egoist.  But  a 
philosopher  may  hold  that  human  motives  are  always 
of  this  sort,  and  yet  reveal  unmistakably,  both  in  his 
life  and  in  his  writings,  that  he  is  not  really  an  egoist 
at  all.  In  which  case,  we  may  tax  him  with  more  or  less 
inconsistency,  but  we  should  not  misconceive  him. 

102.  The  Arguments  for  Egoism.  —  So  much  for  the 

forms  of  egoism.     It  remains  to  enquire  what  may  be 

urged  in  favor  of  the  doctrine,  and  what  may  be  said 

against  it. 

^»  James,  Psychology,  Vol.  I,  chapter  x,  pp.  319-321;  a  baby  is 
characterized  as  "  thecompletest  egoist." 


EGOISM  213 

(1)  It  has  been  urged  that  egoism  is  inevitable.  This, 
to  be  sure,  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  an  argument  that 
a  man  ought  to  be  an  egoist,  for  there  seems  little  sense 
in  telling  a  man  that  he  ought  to  do  what  he  cannot 
possibly  help  doing.  But  the  argument  may  be  used  to 
deter  us  from  advocating  some  other  ethical  doctrine. 

''  On  the  occasion  of  every  act  that  he  exercises,"  says 
Bentham,  "  every  human  being  is  led  to  pursue  that 
line- of  conduct  which,  according  to  his  view  of  the  case, 
taken  by  him  at  the  moment,  will  be  in  the  highest 
degree  contributory  to  his  own  greatest  happiness."  ^° 

From  this  we  might  conclude,  not  only  that  every  man 
is  an  egoist,  but  also  that  every  man  is  at  all  times  a 
prudent  and  calculating  egoist  —  which  seems  to  flatter 
grossly  the  drunkard  and  the  excited  man  laying  about 
him  in  blind  fury.  But  one  may  hold  that  egoism  is 
inevitable  without  going  so  far.-^ 

(2)  The  egoistic  ideal  may  be  urged  upon  us  on  the 
ground  that  it  addresses  itself  to  man  as  natural  and 
reasonable. 

Thus,  the  Cyrenaics  saw  in  the  fact  that  we  are  from 
our  childhood  attracted  to  pleasure,  and,  when  we  have 
attained  it,  seek  no  further,  a  proof  that  pleasure  is  the 
chief  good."  Paley  maintains  that,  when  it  has  been 
pointed  out  that  private  happiness  has  been  the  motive 
of  an  act,  "  no  further  question  can  reasonably  be 
asked."  -^  Our  citations  from  Hobbes  and  Bentham  and 

20  The  Constitutional  Code.    Introduction,  §  2. 

21  Psychological  Hedonism,  the  doctrine  that  "  volition  is 
always  determined  by  pleasures  or  pains  actual  or  prospective," 
need  not  be  thus  exaggerated.  See  Sidgwick's  Methods  oj  Ethics, 
I,  iv,  §  1. 

22  Diogenes  Laertius,  II,  "  Aristippus,"  §  8. 

23  Moral  Philosophy,  II,  §3. 


214    THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

Green  reveal  that  these  writers  never  think  of  giving 
reasons  why  a  man  should  seek  his  own  good. 

And  various  moralists,  who  do  not  make  self-interest 
the  one  fundamental  principle  which  should  rule  human 
conduct,  are  evidently  loath  to  make  of  it  a  principle 
subordinate  to  some  other.  Bishop  Butler,  who  maintains 
that  virtue  consists  in  the  pursuit  of  right  and  good  as 
such,  yet  holds  that:  *'  When  we  sit  down  in  a  cool  hour, 
we  can  neither  justify  to  ourselves  this  nor  any  other  pur- 
suit till  we  are  convinced  that  it  will  be  for  our  happiness, 
or  at  least  not  contrary  to  it."  -*  Clarke,  who  dwells 
upon  the  eternal  and  immutable  obligations  of  morality 
"  incumbent  on  men  from  the  very  nature  and  reason  of 
things  themselves  "  teaches  that  it  is  not  reasonable  for 
men  to  adhere  to  virtue  if  they  receive  no  advantage 
from   it.-^ 

The  moral  here  seems  to  be  that,  whatever  else  a  man 
ought  to  do,  he  ought  to  seek  his  own  advantage  —  real 
self-sacrifice  cannot  be  his  duty.  This  conviction  of 
the  unreasonableness  of  self-sacrifice  reveals  itself  in 
another  form  in  the  doctrine  that  morality  cannot  be 
made  completely  rational  unless  a  reconciliation  between 
prudence  and  benevolence  can  be  found;-*'  and  in  the 
labored  attempts  to  show  that  the  good  of  the  individual 
must  actually  coincide  with  that  of  the  community.-"  It 
may  be  questioned  whether  the  same  conviction  did  not 

24  Sermon  XI. 

^^  Boyle  Lectures,  1705,  Prop.  I. 

26  SiDGWicK,  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  concluding  chapter,  §    5. 

27  E.  g.  Green,  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  §  244-245.  Aristotle 
tries  to  prove  that  he  who  dies  for  his  country  is  impelled  by 
self-love.  He  does  what  is  hononible,  and  thus  "  gives  the  greater 
good  to  himself."     Ethics,  Book  IX,  chapter  viii. 


EGOISM  21o 


ft 


lurk  in  the  back  of  the  mind  of  that  sternest  of  moralists, 
Kant,  who  denied  that  happiness  ought  to  be  sought  at 
all,  and  yet  found  so  irrational  the  divorce  of  virtue  and 
happiness  that  he  postulated  a  God  to  guarantee  their 


union.-* 


Thus,  moralists  of  widely  different  schools  agree  in 
recognizing  that  self-interest  is  a  principle  that  should 
not  be  placed  second  to  any  other.  The  confessed  egoist 
only  goes  a  step  further  in  recognizing  it  as  a  principle 
that  has  no  rival.  And  that  men  generally  are  inclined 
to  regard  egoism  as  not  unnatural  seems  evinced  by  the 
fact  that  for  apparently  altruistic  actions  they  are  very 
apt  to  seek  ulterior  egoistic  motives,  while,  if  the  action 
seems  plainly  egoistic,  they  seek  no  further. 

Does,  then,  anything  seem  more  natural  than  egoism? 
and,  if  natural,  may  it  not  be  assumed  to  be  proper 
and  right? 

(3)  Finally,  it  may  be  urged  that  he  who  serves  his 
own  interests  at  all  intelligently  has,  at  least,  a  com- 
prehensive aim,  and  does  not  live  at  random.  In  so  far, 
egoism  appears  to  be  rational  in  a  sense  dwelt  on  above  f^ 
it  harmonizes  and  unifies  the  impulses  and  desires  of 
the  man. 

103.  The  Argument  against  Egoism.  —  What  may  be 
said   against  egoism? 

(1)  Enough  has  been  said  above  to  show  that  egoism 
is  not  inevitable,  but  that  men  actuallv  are  influenced 
by  motives  which  cannot  be  regarded  as  egoistic.  It 
is,  hence,  not  necessary  to  dwell  upon  this  point. 

(2)  As  to  the  naturalness  of  egoism.     Both  the  pro- 

28  The  Critique  of  the  Practical  Reason,  chapter  ii, 
"  §  §  55-56 


216       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

fessional  moralist  and  the  man  in  the  street  may  hesitate 
to  admit  that  a  man  should  neglect  his  own  interests, 
and  may  find  it  natural  that  he  should  cultivate  them 
assiduously.  But  it  is  only  the  exceptional  man  who 
maintains  that  he  should  have  nothing  else  in  view. 

There  are  individuals  so  constituted  that  self-interest 
makes  to  them  a  peculiarly  strong  appeal.  Others,  more 
social  by  nature,  may  be  misled  by  psychological  theory 
to  maintain  that  a  man's  chief  and  only  end  is  his  own 
"  satisfaction."  ^^  Still  others,  realizing  that  both  one's 
own  interests  and  the  interests  of  one's  neighbor  are  nat- 
ural and  seemingly  legitimate  objects  of  regard,  are 
perplexed  as  to  the  method  of  reconciling  their  apparently 
conflicting  claims,  and  are  betrayed  into  inconsistent 
utterances. 

But  it  is  too  much  to  say  that  the  professional  mor- 
alist and  the  plain  man  normally  regard  pure  egoism 
with  favor  and  find  it  natural.  In  spite  of  our  cynical 
maxims  and  our  inclination  to  seek  for  ulterior  motives 
for  apparently  altruistic  acts,  v}e  abhor  the  thorough- 
going egoist,  and  we  are  not  inclined  to  look  upon  the 
phenomena,  let  us  say,  of  the  family  life,  as  manifesta- 
tions of  self-seeking. 

It  is  worth  while  to  remark  that,  even  if  the  approach 
to  the  Cyrenaic  ideal  were  so  common  as  not  to  seem 
wholly  unnatural,  that  would  not  prove  that  it  ought  to 
be  embraced;  it  is  natural  for  men  to  err,  but  that  does 
not  make  error  our  duty. 

(3)  By  the  moral  conviction  of  organized  humanity, 
as  expressed  in  custom,  law,  and  public  opinion,  egoism 
stands  condemned.  Neither  in  savage  life  nor  among 
30  See  below,  chapter  xxvi,  3. 


EGOISM  217 

civilized  peoples,  neither  in  the  dawn  of  human  history 
nor  in  its  latest  chapters,  do  we  find  these  agencies 
encouraging  every  man  to  live  exclusively  for  himself. 
Egoistic  impulses  are  recognized,  in  that  reward  and 
punishment  are  allotted,  but  the  end  urged  upon  the 
attention  of  the  individual  is  the  common  good,  not  his 
own  particular  good. 

The  social  conscience  has  always  demanded  of  the 
individual  self-sacrifice,  even  to  the  extent  of  laying 
down  his  life,  on  occasion,  for  the  public  weal.  And 
the  enlightened  social  conscience  does  not  regard  a  man 
as  truly  moral  whose  outward  conformity  to  moral  laws 
rests  solely  upon  a  basis  of  egoistic  calculation.  The 
very  existence  of  the  family,  the  tribe,  the  state,  is  a 
protest  against  pure  egoism.  Were  all  men  as  egoistic 
as  Aristippus  seems  to  have  professed  to  be,  a  stable 
community  life  of  any  sort  would  be  impossible. 

(4)  The  argument  that  egoism  is  rational  at  least  in 
so  far  as  it  introduces  consistency  into  actions  and  uni- 
fies and  harmonizes  desires  and  impulses  deserves  little 
consideration.  Any  comprehensive  end  will  do  the  same, 
and  many  comprehensive  ends  may  be  very  trivial.  One 
may  make  it  the  aim  of  one's  life  to  remain  slender, 
or  may  devote  all  one's  energies  to  the  amelioration  of 
the  social  position  of  bald-headed  men.  He  who  coun- 
sels deliberate  egoism  does  not  recommend  it  merely  on 
the  score  that  it  leads  to  consistent  action.  He  does 
it  on  the  ground  that  the  end  itself  appeals  to  him  as 
one  that  ought  to  be  selected  and  will  be  selected  if  a 
man  is  wise.  That  the  interest  of  the  individual  is  in 
this  sense  a  matter  of  obligation,  is  something  to  be 
proved,  not  assumed. 


218       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

104.  The  Moralist's  Interest  in  Egoism.  —  It  has  been 

worth  while  to  treat  at  length  of  egoism  because  the 
doctrine  takes  on  more  or  less  subtle  forms,  and  its 
fundamental  principle,  self-interest,  has  a  significance 
for  various  ethical  schools  which  are  not,  or  are  not 
considered,  egoistic.  Men  have  been  vastly  puzzled 
by  the  moral  claims  of  the  principle  of  self-interest,  both 
plain  men  and  professional  moralists. 

That  prudence  is  not  the  only  fundamental  virtue, 
most  men  would  be  ready  enough  to  admit;  but  is  it 
properly  speaking,  a  virtue  at  all?  Ought  I,  for  example, 
to  try  to  make  myself  happy?  Suppose  I  do  not  want 
to  be  happy,  what  is  the  source  of  the  obligation? 

Butler  tells  me  that  interest,  one's  own  happiness,  is 
a  manifest  obligation  ;^^  Bentham,  a  writer  of  a  widely 
different  school,  informs  me  that  "  the  constantly  proper 
end  of  action  on  the  part  of  any  individual  at  the  mo- 
ment of  action  is  his  real  greatest  happiness  from  that 
moment  to  the  end  of  his  life." "-  On  the  other  hand, 
Hutcheson  teaches  me  that  I  am  under  no  obligation  to 
be  good  to  myself,  although  I  am  under  obligation  to 
be  good  to  others:  "  Actions  which  flow  solely  from  self- 
love,  and  yet  evidence  no  want  of  benevolence,  having 
no  hurtful  effects  upon  others,  seem  perfectly  indifferent 
in  a  moral  sense."  •''•'  Which  means  that  intemperance  is 
blameworthy  only  so  far  as  it  is  against  the  public 
interest. 

31  Diasertalion  on   the   Nature   oj   Virtue,   §8;   Sermons  III 
and    XI. 

32  Bentham,  Memoirs,  Vol.  X   of  Rowring'.s  Edition,  Edin- 
burgh,  1843,  p.  560. 

23  An  Enquiry  concerning  Moral  Good  and  Evil,  §  3,  5. 


EGOISM  219 

May  I,  should  I,  on  occasion,  sacrifice  myself? 
Thoughtful  men  generally  recognize  self-sacrifice,  not 
only  as  possible,  but  as  actual,  and  believe  it  to  be  at 
times  a  duty.  But  the  moralist  gives  forth  here  an 
uncertain  sound. 

Self-interest  and  benevolence  have  been  left  to  fight 
out  their  quarrel  in  a  court  without  a  judge  to  decide 
upon  their  conflicting  claims;^*  self-sacrifice  has  been 
enjoined  ;^^  it  has  been  declared  impossible  ;^°  it  has  been 
denied  that  it  can  ever  be  a  duty;"  the  kind  of  self- 
sacrifice  in  question  has  been  regarded  as  significant.^* 

He  who  has  rejected  as  unworthy  of  serious  considera- 
tion the  naive  egoism  of  an  Aristippus  or  an  Epicurus 
is  not  on  that  account  done  with  egoism,  by  any  means.^' 

3-*  See  §  102,  the  citations  from  Butler  and  Clarke. 

35  Kant,  see,  later,  chapter  xxix. 

3s  See,  above,  the  position  of  Green,  §97;   cf.,  below,  §126. 

37  Fits,  An  Introductory  Study  of  Ethics,  chapter  vii,  §  5. 

38  SiDGWicK,  The  Methods  oj  Ethics,  Introduction,  §4. 

39  The  question  of  self-sacrifice  recurs  again  in  chapter  xxvi,  3. 


CHAPTER    XXV 
UTILITARIANISM 

105.  What  is  Utilitarianism?  —  The  division  of  things 
desirable  into  those  desirable  in  themselves,  and  those 
desirable  for  the  sake  of  something  else,  is  two  thou- 
sand years  old.  Those  things  which  we  recognize  as 
desirable  for  the  sake  of  something  else,  we  call  useful. 

What  we  shall  regard  as  useful  depends  in  each 
case  upon  the  nature  of  the  end  at  which  we  aim.  If 
our  aim  is  the  attainment  of  pleasure,  the  preservation 
of  life,  the  harmonious  development  of  our  faculties,  or 
any  other,  we  may  term  useful  whatever  makes  for 
the  realization  of  that  end. 

Hence,  we  can,  by  stretching  the  application  of  the 
word,  call  utilitarian  any  ethical  doctrine  which  sets  an 
ultimate  end  to  human  endeavor  and  judges  actions  as 
moral  or  the  reverse,  according  to  their  tendency  to 
realize  that  end,  or  to  frustrate  its  realization.  As  the 
ends  thus  chosen  may  be  very  diverse,  it  is  obvious  that 
w^idely  different  forms  of  utilitarian  doctrine  may  come 
into  being. 

It  is,  however,  inconvenient  to  stretch  the  term,"  util- 
itarianism "  in  this  fashion.  Certain  forms  of  doctrine 
which,  in  its  wider  sense,  it  would  include,  have  come 
to  be  known  under  names  of  their  own ;  and,  besides,  the 
especial  type  of  utilitarianism  advocated  by  Bentham 

220 


UTILITARIANISM  221 

and  John  Stuart  Mill  appears  to  have  a  claim  upon  the 
appellation  which  they  set  in  circulation.  Common  usage 
has  thus  limited  the  significance  of  the  word,  and  we 
naturally  think  of  the  doctrine  of  these  men  when  we 
hear  it  uttered.     It  is  in  this  sense  that  I  shall  use  it. 

"  The  creed  which  accepts  as  the  foundation  of  morals, 
Utility,  or  the  Greatest  Happiness  Principle,"  writes 
Mill,  "  holds  that  actions  are  right  in  proportion  as  they 
tend  to  promote  happiness,  wrong  as  they  tend  to  pro- 
duce the  reverse  of  happiness.  By  happiness  is  intended 
pleasure,  and  the  absence  of  pain;  by  unhappiness,  pain 
and  the  privation  of  pleasure."  This  means,  he  adds, 
"  that  pleasure,  and  freedom  from  pain,  are  the  only 
things  desirable  as  ends;  and  that  all  desirable  things 
.  .  .  are  desirable  either  for  the  pleasure  inherent  in 
themselves,  or  as  means  to  the  promotion  of  pleasure 
and  the  prevention  of  pain."  ^ 

The  pleasure  here  intended  is  not  the  selfish  pleasure 
of  the  individual.  Utilitarianism  is  not  Cyrenaicism. 
The  goal  of  the  utilitarian's  endeavors  is  the  general 
happiness,  in  which  many  individuals  participate.  The 
moral  rules  which  control  and  direct  the  strivings  of 
the  individual  derive  their  authority  from  their  tendency 
to  serve  this  end. 

106.  Bentham's  Doctrine.  —  Most  uncompromising  is 
the  utilitarianism  set  forth  in  the  writings  of  Mill's  mas- 
ter, that  most  benevolent  and  philanthropic  of  men, 
Jeremy  Bentham.  He  is  true  to  his  principles  and  he 
makes  no  concessions. 

1  Utilitarian{s77i,  chapter  ii.  In  the  pages  following,  when  I 
leave  out  a  reference  to  pain  in  discussing  the  utiHtarian  doctrine, 
it  will  be  for  convenience  and  for  the  sake  of  brevity.  The 
intelligent  reader  can  supply  the  omissions. 


222       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

He  regards  that  as  in  the  interest  of  the  individual 
which  tends  to  add  to  the  sum  total  of  his  pleasures 
or  to  diminish  the  sum  total  of  his  pains.  And  he  under- 
stands in  the  same  sense  the  interest  of  the  community.^ 
That  which  serves  that  interest  he  sets  down  as  "  con- 
formable to  the  principle  of  utility."  What  is  thus  con- 
formable he  declares  ought  to  be  done,  what  is  not 
conformable  ought  not  to  be  done.  Right  and  wrong 
he  distinguishes  in  the  same  manner.  "  When  thus  inter- 
preted," he  insists,  "  the  words  ought,  and  right  and 
wrong,  and  others  of  that  stamp,  have  a  meaning;  when 
otherwise,  they  have  none."  ^ 

Of  differences  in  quality  between  pleasures  Benthara 
takes  no  account.  In  his  curious  and  interesting  chap- 
ter entitled  "  Value  of  a  Lot  of  Pleasure  or  Pain,  how 
to  be  Measured,"  he  enumerates  the  circumstances  which 
should  determine  the  value  of  a  pleasure  or  a  pain.  They 
are  as  follows:* 

1.  Its  intensity. 

2.  Its  duration. 

3.  Its  certainty  or  uncertainty. 

4.  Its  propinquity  or  remoteness. 

5.  Its  fecundity. 

6.  Its  purity. 

7.  Its  extent. 

The  first  four  of  these  characteristics  call  for  no 
comment.  By  the  fecundity  of  a  pleasure  Bentham 
understands   its  likelihood   of  being  followed  by  other 

^  Principlc.H  oj   Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  i,  §  5. 

3  Ibid.,  i,  10. 

*  Ibid.,  chapter  iv. 


UTILITARIANISM  223 

pleasures;  by  its  purity,  the  likelihood  that  it  will  not 
be  followed  by  pains.  The  characteristic  "  extent  "  marks 
off  utilitarianism  from  egoism,  for  it  has  reference  to 
the  number  of  persons  affected  by  the  pleasure  or  the 
pain.  The  greater  the  number,  the  higher  the  value  in 
question.  The  greatest  number  of  pleasures  of  the  high- 
est value,  as  free  as  possible  from  admixture  with  pains, 
is  the  goal  of  the  endeavors  of  the  utilitarian.  Naturally, 
when  the  interests  of  many  persons  are  taken  into  ac- 
count, the  question  of  the  principle  according  to  which 
"  lots  "  of  pleasure  are  to  be  distributed  becomes  a  press- 
ing one.  Bentham  decides  it  as  follows:  "Everybody 
to  count  for  one,  and  nobody  for  more  than  one."  ^  In 
other  words,  the  distribution  should  be  an  impartial  one. 
At  first  sight,  this  account  of  the  relative  desirability 
of  pleasures  and  undesirability  of  pains  seems  sensible 
enough.  ]Men  do  desire  pleasure,  and  they  undoubtedly 
approve  the  preference  given  to  pleasures  more  intense, 
enduring,  certain,  immediate,  fruitful  in  further  pleas- 
ures, free  from  painful  consequences,  and  shared  by 
many,  over  those  which  have  not  these  characteristics: 

"  Intense,   long,    certain,   speedy,   fruitful,   pure  — 
Such  marks  in  pleasures  and  in  pains  endure. 

Such  pleasures  seek,  if  private  be  thj'   end: 
If  it  be  public,  wide  let  them  extend. 

Such  paiiis  a\oid,  whichever  be  thy  view; 

If  pains  must  come,  let  them  extend  to  few."  ^ 

These  mnemonic  lines  may  well  strike  many  readers 
as  embodying  a  very  good  working  rule  of  common- 
sense  morality;  as  paying  a  proper  regard  to  prudence 

^  See  the  discussion  of  Bentham's  dictum  in  its  bearings  on 
justice,  J.  S.  Mill,  Utilitarianism,  chapter  v. 

^  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  iv,  1,  Note. 


224.       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

and  to  benevolence  as  well.  But  there  are  passages 
in  Bentham  calculated  to  shake  such  acquiescence.  He 
writes : 

"Now  pleasure  is  in  itself  a  good;  nay,  even  setting 
aside  immunity  from  pain,  the  only  good:  pain  is  in  itself 
an  evil,  and,  indeed  without  exception,  the  only  evil; 
or  else  the  words  good  and  evil  have  no  meaning.  And 
this  is  alike  true  of  every  sort  of  pain,  and  of  every  sort 
of  pleasure."  ^ 

"  Let  a  man's  motive  be  ill-will ;  call  it  even  malice, 
envy,  cruelty;  it  is  still  a  kind  of  pleasure  that  is  his 
motive:  the  pleasure  he  takes  at  the  thought  of  the 
pain  which  he  sees,  or  expects  to  see,  his  adversary  un- 
dergo. Now  even  this  wretched  pleasure,  taken  by  itself, 
is  good:  it  may  be  faint;  it  may  be  short;  it  must  at 
any  rate  be  impure:  yet,  while  it  lasts,  and  before  any 
bad  consequences  arrive,  it  is  as  good  as  any  other  that 
is  not  more  intense."  * 

Reflection  upon  such  passages  may  well  lead  a  man 
to  ask  himself: 

(1)  Is  it,  after  all,  the  consensus  of  human  opinion 
that  pleasure  is  the  only  good  and  pain  the  only  evil? 

(2)  Are  some  pleasures  actually  regarded  as  more 
desirable  than  others,  solely  through  the  application 
of  the  standard  given  above? 

(3)  Can  the  pleasure  of  a  malignant  act  properly  be 
called  morally  good  at  all? 

107.  The  Doctrine  of  John  Stuart  Mill.  —  Bentham's 
purely  quantitative  estimate  of  the  value  of  pleasures  has 
aroused  in  many  minds  the  feeling  that  he  puts  moral- 

'  Ibid.,  chapter  x,  10. 
*  Ibid,  note. 


UTILITARIANISM  225 

ity  upon  a  low  level.^  Mill  attempts  an  improvement 
upon  his  doctrine.  "  It  is  quite  compatible  with  the 
principle  of  utility,"  he  writes,  "  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  some  kinds  of  pleasure  are  more  desirable  and 
more  valuable  than  others.  It  would  be  absurd  that, 
while  in  estimating  all  other  things  quality  is  consid- 
ered as  well  as  quantity,  the  estimation  of  pleasures 
should  be  supposed  to  depend  on  quantity  alone."  ^° 

Thus,  Mill  distinguishes  between  higher  pleasures  and 
lower,  and  he  gives  a  criterion  for  distinguishing  the 
former  from  the  latter:  "  Of  two  pleasures,  if  there  be 
one  to  which  all  or  almost  all  who  have  experience  of 
both  give  a  decided  preference,  irrespective  of  any  feel- 
ing of  moral  obligation  to  prefer  it,  that  is  the  more  desir- 
able pleasure."  He  refers  the  whole  matter  to  the  judg- 
ment of  the  "  competent;"  and,  in  accordance  with  that 
judgment,  decides  that:  "  It  is  better  to  be  a  human 
being  dissatisfied  than  a  pig  satisfied;  better  to  be 
Socrates  dissatisfied  than  a  fool  satisfied.  And  if  the 
fool,  or  the  pig,  are  of  a  different  opinion,  it  is  because 
they  only  know  their  own  side  of  the  question.  The 
other  party  to  the  comparison  knows  both  sides."" 

That  some  pleasures  may  properly  be  called  higher 
than  others  moralists  of  many  schools  will  be  ready  to 
admit,  but  to  Mill's  criterion  of  what  proves  them  to 
be  higher  they  may  demur.    Of  the  delight  that  a  fool 

^  In  justice  to  Bentham  it  nmst  be  borne  in  mind  that  his 
prime  interest  was  not  in  ethical  theory,  but  in  legislative  reform. 
His  doctrine,  such  as  it  was,  and  applied  as  he  applied  it,  was 
a  tool  of  no  mean  efficacy.  Bentham  must  count  among  the  real 
benefactors  of  mankind. 

^°  Utilitarianism,  chapter  i. 

"  Ibid. 


226       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

takes  in  his  folly  a  wise  man  may  be  as  incapable  as  a 
fool  is  of  the  enjoyment  of  wisdom.  With  mature  years 
men  cease  to  be  competent  judges  of  the  pleasures  of 
boyhood.  To  each  nature,  its  appropriate  choice  of 
pleasures.  That  human  beings  at  a  given  level  of  intel- 
lectual and  emotional  development  actually  desire  cer- 
tain things  rather  than  certain  others  does  not  prove 
that  those  things  are  desirable  in  any  general  sense.  It 
does  not  prove  that  men  ought  to  desire  them.  For 
that  proof  we  must  look  in  some  other  direction;  and  a 
critical  scrutiny  of  the  pleasures  which  moralists  ancient 
and  modern  have  generally  accepted  as  "  higher  "  re- 
veals a  common  characteristic  which  explains  their  being 
thus  classed  together  much  better  than  the  appeal  to 
Mill's  criterion.^^ 

As  has  often  been  pointed  out,  Mill,  while  defending 
Utilitarianism,  really  passes  beyond  it,  and  his  doctrine 
tends  to  merge  in  one  widely  different  from  that  of 
Bentham.  For  the  "  Greatest  Happiness  Principle  "  he 
virtually  substitutes  the  "  Highest  Happiness  Principle." 
But  he  scarcely  realizes  the  significance  of  his  substitu- 
tion, and  he  gives  an  inadequate  account  of  the  sig- 
nificance of  higher  and  lower. 

108.  The  Argument  for  Utilitarianism.  —  We  have 
seen  above  that  Bentham  maintains  that  such  words 
as  "  ought,"  "  right"  and  "  wrong  "  have  no  meaning 
unless  interpreted  after  the  fashion  of  the  utilitarian.  He 
admits  that  his  "principle  of  utility  "  is  not  susceptible  of 
direct  proof,  but  claims  that  such  a  proof  is  needless. ^^ 

Accepting  it  as  a  fact  revealed  by  observation  that 

12  See  chapter  xxx,  §  142. 

13  Principles  oj  Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  i,  11. 


UTILITARIANISM  227 

the  actual  end  of  action  on  the  part  of  every  individual 
is  his  own  happiness  as  he  conceives  it,  he  appears  to 
have  passed  on  without  question  to  the  further  positions, 
that  the  proper  end  of  action  of  the  individual  is  his 
own  greatest  happiness,  and,  yet,  his  proper  end  of  ac- 
tion, as  a  member  of  a  community,  is  the  greatest  hap- 
piness of  the  community. ^^ 

The  second  of  these  positions  cannot  be  deduced  from 
the  first,  nor  can  the  third  be  inferred  from  the  other 
two.  Bentham  appears  to  have  taken  the  "  principle  of 
utility  "  for  granted;  but  one  coming  after  him  and  scruti- 
nizing his  work  can  scarcely  avoid  raising  the  question 
of  the  justice  of  his  assumption.  That  happiness  is  the 
only  thing  desirable,  and  that  the  happiness  of  all  should 
be  the  object  aimed  at  by  each,  are  propositions  which 
seem  to  stand  in  need  of  proof. 

Such  proof  Mill  attempted  to  furnish.^^  He  argues 
as  follows: 

"  The  only  proof  capable  of  being  given  that  an 
object  is  visible,  is  that  people  actuallj'  see  it.  The 
only  proof  that  a  sound  is  audible,  is  that  people  hear 
it ;  and  so  of  the  other  sources  of  our  experience.  In  like 
manner,  I  apprehend,  the  sole  evidence  it  is  possible  to 
produce  that  anything  is  desirable,  is  that  people  do 
actually  desire  it.  If  the  end  which  the  utilitarian  doc- 
trine proposes  to  itself  were  not.  in  theory  and  practice, 
acknowledged  to  be  an  end,  nothing  could  ever  convince 

1*  See  the  paper  entitled  "  Logical  Arrangements,  Employed 
as  Instruments  in  Legislation  "  etc.,  Memoirs,  Bowring's  Edition, 
Volume   X,  page   560. 

^^  He  does  not  regard  his  doctrine  as  provable  in  the  usual 
sense;  but  he  adduces  what  he  regards  as  "  equivalent  to  proof." 
Utilitarianism,  chapter  i. 


228    THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

any  person  that  it  was  so.  No  reason  can  be  given  why 
the  general  happiness  is  desirable,  except  that  each  per- 
son, so  far  as  he  believes  it  to  be  attainable,  desires  his 
own  happiness.  This,  however,  being  a  fact,  we  have  not 
only  all  the  proof  the  case  admits  of,  but  all  which 
it  is  possible  to  require,  that  happiness  is  a  good:  that 
each  person's  happiness  is  a  good  to  that  person,  and 
the  general  happiness,  therefore,  a  good  to  the  aggregate 
of  all  persons.  Happiness  has  made  out  its  title  as  one 
of  the  ends  of  conduct,  and,  consequently  one  of  the 
ends  of  morality."  ^*^ 

That  happiness  is  the  only  ultimate  end,  Mill  regards 
as  established  by  the  argument  that  other  things,  for 
example,  virtue,  though  they  come  to  be  valued  for 
themselves,  do  so  only  through  the  fact  that,  originally 
valued  as  means  to  the  attainment  of  happiness,  they 
become,  through  association,  valued  even  out  of  this 
relation,  and  thus  treated  as  a  part  of  happiness.^^ 

The  defects  in  Mill's  argument  have  made  themselves 
apparent,  not  merely  to  the  opponents  of  utilitarianism, 
but  even  to  its  advocates.^*  We  cannot  say  that  things 
are  desirable  in  any  moral  sense,  simply  because  they 
are  desired.  In  a  loose  sense  of  the  word,  everything 
that  is  or  has  been  desired  by  anyone  is  desirable  —  it 
evidently  can  be  desired.  When  we  say  no  more  than 
this,  we  say  nothing.  But  when  we  call  a  course  of  action 
desirable  we  mean  more  than  this ;  and  we  are  compelled 
to  admit  that  a  multitude  of  desirable  things  are  not 
generally  desired.  This  is  the  burden  of  the  lament  of 
every  reformer. 

^^  Utilitarianism,  chapter  iv. 

"  Ihid. 

^*  SiDGWiCK,  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  xiii,  §  5. 


UTILITARIANISM  229 

Furthermore,  it  does  not  appear  to  follow  that,  be- 
cause his  own  happiness  is  a  good  to  each  member  of  a 
community,  the  happiness  of  all  must  likewise  be  a 
good  to  each  severally.  A  community  in  which  every 
man  studies  his  own  interest  may  conceivably  be  a 
community  in  which  no  man  regards  it  as  desirable  to 
consult  the  public  weal.  That  the  general  happiness  is 
desirable,  in  a  loose  sense  of  the  word,  is  palpable  fact; 
it  is  obvious  that  it  can  be  desired,  for  some  persons  do 
actually  desire  it.  But  that  it  is  desirable  in  any  sense 
cannot  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  all  men  desire 
something  else,  namely,  their  own  individual  happiness. 

We  must,  then,  look  further  for  the  proof  of  the 
utilitarian  principle.  Henry  Sidgwick,  that  admirable 
scholar  and  most  judicial  mind,  falls  back  upon  certain 
intuitions  which,  he  conceives,  present  themselves  as 
ultimate  and  unassailable.     He  writes: 

"  Let  us  reflect  upon  the  clearest  and  most  certain  of 
our  moral  intuitions.  I  find  that  I  undoubtedly  seem 
to  perceive,  as  clearly  and  certainly  as  I  see  any  axiom 
in  Arithmetic  or  Geometry,  that  it  is  '  right '  and  '  reason- 
able '  for  me  to  treat  others  as  I  should  think  that  I 
myself  ought  to  be  treated  under  similar  conditions, 
and  to  do  what  I  believe  to  be  ultimately  conducive  to 
universal  Good  or  Happiness." 

And  again:  "  The  propositions,  '  I  ought  not  to  pre- 
fer a  present  lesser  good  to  a  future  greater  good,'  and 
'  I  ought  not  to  prefer  my  own  lesser  good  to  the  greater 
good  of  another,'  do  present  themselves  as  self-evident; 
as  much  {e.  g.)  as  the  mathematical  axiom  that  '  if 
equals  be  added  to  equals  the  wholes   are  equal.' "  ^^ 

^^  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  concluding  chapter,  §  5,  and  Book 
III,  chapter  xiii,  §  3. 


230    THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

Whether  these  intuitions  will  be  accepted  as  furnish- 
ing an  indisputably  sound  basis  for  utilitarianism  will 
depend  upon  one's  attitude  toward  intuitions  in  gen- 
eral and  the  list  of  intuitions  one  is  inclined  to  accept. 
It  is  significant  that  Sidgwick  does  not  accept  as  self- 
evident  such  subordinate  propositions  as,  "  I  ought  to 
speak  the  truth."  He  regards  their  authority  as  derived 
from  the  Greatest  Happiness  Principle. 

109.  The  Distribution  of  Happiness. — The  man  who 
accepts  the  Greatest  Happiness  Principle  as  the  sole 
basis  of  his  ethical  doctrine  is  faced  with  the  problem 
of  its  application  in  detail.  The  "  greatest  good  of  the 
greatest  number  "  is  a  vague  expression.  What  is  prop- 
erly understood  by  "  the  greatest  number  "  ?  and  upon 
what  principle  shall  "  lots  "  of  happiness  be  assigned  to 
each?  Very  puzzling  questions  arise  when  we  approach 
the  problem  of  the  distribution  of  pleasures  and  the  cal- 
culation of  their  values.    Let  us  look  at  them, 

I.  Who  should  be  considered  in  the  Distribution? 

(1)  Shall  we  aim  directly  at  the  happiness  of  all  men 
now  living?  or  shall  we  content  ourselves  with  a  smaller 
number?  Certainly,  with  increasing  intelligence  and 
broadening  sympathies,  men  tend  toward  a  more  em- 
bracing benevolence. 

(2)  Shall  we  admit  to  the  circle  generations  yet  un- 
born? and,  if  so,  how  far  into  the  future  should  wo  look? 

(3)  Should  we  make  a  deliberate  attempt  to  increase 
the  number  of  those  who  may  share  the  common  fund 
of  happiness,  by  striving  for  an  increase  in  the  number 
of  births?  This  end  has  been  consciously  sought  for 
divers  reasons.  The  ancestor-worship  of  China  has  made 
the  Chinaman  eagerly  desirous  of  leaving  behind  him 


UTILITARIANISM  231 

those  who  would  devote  themselves  to  him  after  he  has 
departed  this  life.  Nations  ancient  and  modern  have 
endeavored  to  strengthen  the  state  by  providing  for  an 
increase  in  its  population.  Shall  a  similar  end  be  pur- 
sued for  the  ethical  purpose  of  widening  the  circle  of 
those  who  shall  live  and  be  happy?  Most  ethical  teach- 
ers do  not  appear  to  have  regarded  this  as  a  corollary 
to  the  doctrine  of  benevolence. 

(4)  Shall  we  enlarge  the  circle  so  as  to  include  the 
lower  animals?  As  Bentham  expressed  it:  The  question 
is  not,  Can  they  reason'^  nor,  Can  they  talk'^  but,  Can 
they  si/#er?"2o 

II.  How  should  the  "  lots  "  of  happiness  be  measured? 

(1)  Should  everybody  count  as  one,  and  nobody  as 
more  than  one?  in  other  words,  should  strict  impartiality 
be  aimed  at? 

Dr.  Westermarck's  striking  reply  to  the  argument 
for  impartiality  as  urged  by  Professor  Sidgwick  has  al- 
ready been  cjuoted.-^    Let  the  reader  glance  at  it  again. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  to  put  one's  parents,  one's 
children,  one's  neighbors,  strangers,  foreigners,  the  brutes, 
all  upon  the  same  level,  is  contrary  to  the  moral  judg- 
ment of  savage  and  civilized  alike.  It  would  seem  con- 
trary to  the  sentiments  which  lie  at  the  root  of  the 
family,  the  community,  and  the  state.  Nor  have  we 
reason  to  look  forward  to  any  future  state  of  human 
society  in  which  such  lesser  groups  within  the  broad 
circle  of  humanity  will  be  done  away  with,  though 
they  tend  to  become  less  exclusive  in  their  demands 
upon  human  sympathy. 

20  Principles  of   Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  xvii,  §  4. 

21  See  chapter  v,  §  16. 


232       THE    SCHOOLS    0¥    THE    MORALISTS 

(2)  Suppose  that  the  greatest  sum  of  happiness  on 
the  whole  could  be  best  attained  by  an  unequal  distri- 
bution—  by  making  a  limited  number  very  happy  at 
the  expense  of  the  rest.  Would  this  be  justifiable?  It 
would  be  in  harmony  with  the  Greatest  Happiness  Prin- 
ciple, though  not  with  the  principle  of  the  greatest  hap- 
piness equally  shared. 

III.  The  question  of  the  distribution  of  happiness  in 
the  life  of  the  individual  is  not  one  to  be  ignored.  If 
we  are  concerned  only  with  the  quantity  of  happiness, 
may  we  not  take  as  the  ethical  precept  ''  a  short  life 
and  a  merry  one  "  —  provided  the  brief  span  of  years 
be  merry  enough,  and  there  be  no  objection  to  the  choice 
on  the  score  of  harm  to  others? 

This  problem  is  closely  analogous  to  that  of  the  dis- 
tribution of  pleasures  to  those  who  compose  the  "  greatest 
number  "  taken  into  account.  There  we  were  concerned 
with  the  shares  allotted  to  individuals;  here  we  are 
concerned  with  the  shares  assigned  to  the  different  parts 
of  a  single  life.  In  the  attempt  to  solve  the  problem, 
Bentham's  criteria  of  intensity,  certainty,  purity,  etc., 
might  naturally  be  appealed  to. 

110.  The  Calculus  of  Pleasures.  —  Nor  are  the  prob- 
lems which  meet  us  less  perplexing  when  we  pass  from 
questions  of  the  distribution  of  pleasures  to  that  of  the 
calculus  of  pleasures.  How  are  delights  and  miseries  to 
be  weighed,   and  reasonably   balanced? 

(1)  Men  desire  pleasure,  and  they  desire  to  avoid 
pain.  The  two  seem  to  be  opposed.  But  men  constantly 
accept  pleasures  which  entail  some  suffering,  and  they 
avoid  pains  even  at  the  expense  of  some  pleasure.  Are, 
however,  pleasures  and  pains  strictly  commensurable? 


UTILITARIANISM  233 

How  much  admixture  of  pain  is  called  for  to  reduce  the 
value  of  a  pleasure  to  zero?  and  how  much  pleasure, 
added  to  a  pain,  will  make  the  whole  emotional  state 
predominantly  a  pleasurable  one?  A  disagreeable  taste 
and  an  agreeable  odor  may  be  experienced  together,  but 
they  cannot  be  treated  as  an  algebraic  sum.  If  we  do 
so  treat  them,  we  seem  to  fall  back  upon  the  assumption 
that  the  mere  fact  that  the  heterogeneous  complex  is 
accepted  or  rejected  is  evidence  that  its  ingredients  have 
been  measured  and  compared.  This  is  an  ungrounded 
assumption. 

(2)  Undoubtedly  men  prefer  intense  pleasures  to  mild 
ones,  and  those  long-continued  to  those  which  are  fleeting. 
But  what  degree  of  intensity  will  overbalance  what 
period  of  duration?  Here,  again,  we  appear  to  be  with- 
out a  unit  of  measure,  both  in  the  case  of  pleasures  and 
of  pains. 

(3)  Obviously,  he  w^ho  would  distribute  pleasures  with 
impartiality  must  take  into  consideration  the  natures 
and  capacities  of  the  recipients.  All  are  not  susceptible 
of  pleasure  in  the  same  degree,  nor  are  all  capable  of 
enjoying  the  same  pleasures.  It  is  small  kindness  to  a 
cat  to  offer  it  hay;  nor  will  the  miser  thank  us  for  the 
opportunity  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  liberality.  The 
gift  which  arouses  deep  emotion  in  one  man,  will  leave 
another  cold.  The  diversity  of  natures  would  make  the 
calculus  of  pleasures,  in  any  accurate  sense  of  the  ex- 
pression, a  most  difficult  problem,  even  if  such  a  calcu- 
lus were  admissible  in  the  case  of  a  single  individual.-^ 

111.  The  Difficulties  of  other  Schools.  —  It  would  be 

22  This  difficulty  has  not  been  overlooked  by  the  Utilitarian, 
see  Bentham,  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  vi. 


234       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

unjust  to  the  utilitarian  not  to  point  out  that  those  who 
advocate  other  doctrines  must  find  some  way  of  coping 
with  the  difficulties  which  embarrass  him. 

Thus,  the  egoist  may  ignore  duties  to  others,  but  he 
cannot  free  himself  from  the  problems  of  the  distribution 
of  happiness  in  his  own  life  and  of  the  calculus  of  pleas- 
ures. The  intuitionist,  who,  among  other  precepts,  ac- 
cepts as  ultimate  those  enjoining  upon  him  justice  and 
benevolence,  may  well  ask  himself  toward  whom  these 
virtues  are  to  be  exercised,  and  whether  the  claims  of 
all  who  belong  to  the  class  in  question  are  identical  in 
kind  and  degree.  If  they  are  not,  he  must  find  some 
rule  for  estimating  their  relative  importance.  He  who 
makes  it  his  moral  ideal  to  Follow  Nature,  to  Strive  for 
Perfection,  or  to  Realize  his  Capacities,  must  determine 
in  detail  what  conduct,  self-regarding  and  other-regard- 
ing, the  acceptance  of  such  aims  entails.  Only  the  unre- 
flective  can  regard  the  utilitarian  as  having  a  monopoly 
of  the  difficulties  which  face  the  moralist.  The  vague 
general  statement  that  we  should  strive  to  render  others 
happy —  a  duty  recognized  by  men  of  very  different 
schools  —  never  frees  us  from  the  perplexities  which 
arise  when  it  is  asked:  What  others?  With  what  degree 
of  impartiality?  When?  By  what  means?  But  that 
such  questions  can  be  approached  by  a  path  more  satis- 
factory than  that  followed  by  the  utilitarian,  there  is 
good  reason  to  maintain.-^ 

112.  Summary  of  Arguments  for  Utilitarianism.  —  It 
is  worth  while  to  summarize  what  may  be  said  for  util- 
itarianism, and  what  may  be  said  against  it.  It  may 
be  argued  in  its  favor: 

23  See,  below,  chapter  xxx,   §  §  140-142. 


UTILITARIANISM  235 

(1)  That  it  appears  to  set  as  the  aim  of  human 
endeavor,  an  intelligible  end,  and  a  fairly  definite  one. 
Everyone  has  some  notion  of  what  happiness  means, 
and  is  not  without  ideas  touching  the  way  to  seek  his 
own  happiness,  or  to  contribute  to  that  of  others. 

(2)  The  end  is  one  actually  desired  by  men  at  all 
stages  of  intellectual  and  moral  development.  Men  are 
impelled  to  seek  their  own  happiness,  and  there  are  few 
who  do  not  feel  impelled  to  take  into  consideration,  to 
some  degree,  at  least,  the  happiness  of  some  others. 

(3)  The  general  happiness  is  not  merely  desired  by 
some  men,  but  it  is  felt  to  be  desirable;  that  is,  it  is  an 
end  not  out  of  harmony  with  the  moral  judgments  of 
mankind.  It  makes  its  appeal  to  the  social  nature 
of  man;  it  seems  to  furnish  a  basis  for  the  exercise  of 
benevolence  and  justice. 

(4)  The  utilitarian's  clear  recognition  of  the  general 
happiness  as  the  ultimate  end  of  human  endeavor,  and 
his  insistence  that  institutions,  laws  and  moral  maxims 
must  be  judged  solely  by  their  fitness  to  serve  as  means 
to  that  end,  have  made  him  an  energetic  apostle  of  re- 
form, and  intolerant  of  old  and  passively  accepted  abuses. 
His  insistence  upon  the  principle  of  impartiality  in  the 
distribution  of  happiness  has  made  him  a  champion  of 
the  inarticulate  and  the  oppressed.  Whatever  one  may 
think  of  his  abstract  principles,  the  general  character 
of  the  specific  measures  he  has  advocated  must  meet 
with  the  approval  of  enlightened  moralists  of  very  dif- 
ferent schools. 

113.  Arguments  against  Utilitarianism.  —  Against 
utilitarianism  as  an  ethical  theory  various  objections 
have  been  brought  or  may  be  brought. 


236       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

(1)  Objection  may  be  taken  to  the  utilitarian  assump- 
tion that  the  only  ultimate  object  of  desire  is  pleasure  or 
happiness. 

It  was  pointed  out  forcibly  by  Bishop  Butler  in  the 
eighteenth  century  that  men  desire  many  things  besides 
pleasure.  Man's  desires  are  an  outcome  of  his  nature, 
and  that  results  in  "particular  movements  towards  par- 
ticular external  objects"  —  honor,  power,  the  harm  or 
good  of  another.-*  To  be  sure,  "  no  one  can  act  but 
from  a  desire,  or  choice,  or  preference  of  his  own,"  but 
this  is  no  evidence  that  what  he  seeks  in  acting  is 
always  pleasure.  Particular  passions  or  appetites  are, 
Butler  ingeniously  argues,  "  necessarily  presupposed  by 
the  very  idea  of  an  interested  pursuit ;  since  the  very  idea 
of  interest  or  happiness  consists  in  this,  that  an  appetite 
or  affection  enjoys  its  object." 

Here  we  find  our  attention  called  to  a  very  important 
truth,  the  significance  of  which  there  is  danger  of  our 
overlooking.  Pleasure  or  happiness  is  not  something  that 
can  be  parcelled  up  and  handed  about  independently  of 
the  nature  of  the  recipient.  It  is  not  everyone  who  can 
desire  everything  and  fe^l  pleasure  in  its  attainment. 
That  the  objects  of  desire  and  will  are  many,  and  that 
the  strivings  of  conscious  creatures  have  in  view  many 
ends,  and  vary  according  to  the  impulsive  and  instinctive 
endowments  of  the  creatures  in  question,  has  been  well 
brought  out  in  the  admirable  studies  of  instinct  which 
we  now  have  at  our  disposal.  The  most  ardent  devotee 
of  pleasure  must  recognize,  that  only  certain  pleasures 
are  open  to  him;  that,  such  as  they  are,  they  are  a 
revelation  of  his  nature  and  capacities;  that  pleasures, 

^*  Sermons,  Preface,   §29;    cf.   Sermon  XI. 


UTILITARIANISM  237 

if  sought  at  all,  cannot  be  secured  directly,  but  only  as 
the  result  of  a  successful  striving  for  objects  not  pleas- 
ures, which  bring  pleasure  as  their  accompaniment.  He 
who  would  have  the  pleasure  of  eating  must  desire 
food;  and  neither  food,  nor  the  eating  of  food,  can  be 
regarded  as,  per  se,  pleasure.  The  pleasure  of  the  brood- 
ing hen  is  beyond  the  reach  of  man,  who,  however 
pleasure-loving,  cannot  desire  to  sit  upon  eggs,  and  so 
must  forego  the  pleasure  which,  in  the  case  of  the  bird, 
crowns  that  exercise. 

Such  considerations  as  the  above  have  led  some  moral- 
ists to  define,  as  the  end  of  desire,  not  pleasure,  but  self- 
satisfaction.  Every  desire,  it  is  pointed  out,  strives  to 
satisfy  itself  in  the  attainment  of  its  appropriate  ob- 
ject. With  the  attainment  of  the  object,  the  desire  has 
produced  its  proper  fruit  and  ceases  to  be.  It  is  ad- 
mitted that  the  satisfaction  of  desire  is  accompanied  by 
pleasure,  but  it  is  denied  that  the  pleasure  may  be  prop- 
erly called  the  object  of  the  desire,  or  regarded  as  calling 
it  into  being:  "  The  appetite  of  hunger  must  pre- 
cede and  condition  the  pleasure  which  consists  in  its 
satisfaction.  It  cannot  therefore  have  that  pleasure  for 
its  exciting  object."  -^ 

At  the  same  time  it  is  conceded  that  the  idea  of  a 
pleasure  to  be  attained  may  "  reinforce  "  the  desire  for 
an  object,  may  "  intensify  the  putting  forth  of  energy," 
and  may  tend  "  to  sustain  and  prolong  any  mode  of 
action."  ^^     It  is  further  conceded  that  pleasures  may 

25  Green,   Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  i,  §  161. 
See  aI?o   Book   II,   chapter  ii,   §  131 :    Book   III,   chapter  i,   §  § 
154-160. 

26  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  161 ;  Dewey,  Ethics,  chapter  xiv, 
§1,  p.  271;  McDouGALL,  Social  Psychology,  London,  1916,  p.  43. 


238       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

be  consciously  aimed  at,  but  it  is  urged  that  this  does  not 
result  in  true  self-satisfaction,  and  is  evidence  of  the 
existence  of  unhealthy  desires.^'-' 

The  utilitarian  is  not  wholly  helpless  in  the  face  of 
such  objections.  He  may  argue  that,  if  it  is  difficult 
to  see  how  a  pleasure  which  is  the  result  of  a  desire  may 
cause  the  desire,  it  is  equally  difficult  to  see  how  it  may 
prolong,  reinforce  or  intensify  it.  And  he  may  maintain 
that,  although  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  in  certain  forms,  is 
calculated  to  defeat  its  own  aim  and  is  undoubtedly  un- 
healthy, this  need  not  be  the  case  if  one's  aim  be  the  true 
utilitarian  one  —  the  happiness  of  all.  The  direct  attack 
upon  his  Greatest  Happiness  Principle  which  consists 
in  the  objection  that,  if  pleasure  is  the  only  object  of 
desire,  a  sum  of  pleasures,  as  not  being  a  pleasure,  can- 
not be  desired,^*  he  can  put  aside  with  the  remark  that 
no  far-reaching  and  comprehensive  aim  can  be  realized 
at  one  stroke.  I  can  desire  a  long  and  useful  life;  this 
cannot  be  had  all  at  once.  I  can  desire  a  long  life  full 
of  pleasures;  this  cannot  be  enjoyed  all  at  once  either. 
But  each  can  certainly  be  the  object  of  desire. 

But,  when  all  is  said,  it  remains  true  that  the  conten- 
tion of  those,  who  distinguish  sharply  between  the  satis- 
faction of  desire  and  the  attainment  of  pleasure,  is  of 
no  little  importance.  It  calls  our  attention  to  the  follow- 
ing truths: 

(a)  We  have  definite  instincts  and  impulses  which 
tend  to  satisfy  themselves  with  their  appropriate  objects. 

(b)  At  their  first  exercise,  our  aim  could  not  have  been 
the  pleasure  resulting  from  their  satisfaction,  for  that 
could  not  have  been  foreseen. 

27  Prolegomena  to   Ethics,  §158;   Dewey,  Ethics  p.  270. 

28  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  221. 


UTILITARIANISM  239 

(c)  Although,  after  experience,  the  attainment  of  pleas- 
ure may  come  to  be  our  aim  in  the  exercise  of  many  activ- 
ities, and  may  often,  as  far  as  we  can  see,  be  a  natural 
and  not  unwholesome  aim;  it  is  by  no  means  evident 
that,  even  when  we  are  experienced  and  reflective,  the 
exercise  of  our  faculties  comes  to  be  regarded  only  as 
a  means  to  the  attainment  of  pleasure. 

(d)  The  hedonist,  in  maintaining  that  pleasure  is  the 
only  ultimate  object  of  desire,  appears,  thus,  to  be  com- 
mitted to  the  doctrine  that  the  satisfaction  of  all  other 
desires  is  subordinated  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  desire 
for  pleasure.  For  this  position  he  can  furnish  no  adequate 
proof.    Self-evident  the  doctrine  is  not. 

(e)  It  is  incumbent  upon  him,  as  a  moralist,  to  prove, 
not  merely  that  all  other  satisfactions  are,  but  also  that 
they  oitght  to  be  subordinated  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
desire  for  pleasure.  This  he  appears  to  assume  without 
proof. 

(2)  We  have  seen  above  -^  that  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciple of  utilitarian  hedonism,  as  against  egoistic,  namely, 
the  making  the  Greatest  Happiness  of  the  Greatest 
Number  the  object  of  the  endeavors  of  each  individual, 
has  not  been  satisfactorily  established  by  leading  utili- 
tarians. Bentham  assumes  the  principle;  Mill  advances 
a  doubtful  argument;  Sidgwick  falls  back  upon  intuitions 
which  all  will  not  admit  to  be  indubitable.  To  his  asser- 
tion: "  Reason  shows  me  that  if  my  happiness  is  desir- 
able and  a  good,  the  equal  happiness  of  any  other  person 
must  be  equally  desirable,"  ^°  the  doubter  may  reply: 
Desirable  to  whom?  to  him  or  to  me? 

29  See  §  108. 

30  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  xiv,  §  5. 


240       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

(3)  Finally,  it  may  be  objected  that  the  consistent 
utilitarian,  in  making  pleasure,  abstractly  taken,  the 
only  ultimate  good,  and  in  regarding  as  the  sole  criterion 
of  right  actions  their  tendency  to  produce  pleasure,  really 
tears  pleasure  out  of  its  moral  setting  altogether. 

Thus  Bentham's  contention  ^^  that  the  pleasure  a  man 
may  derive  from  the  exercise  of  malice  or  cruelty  is, 
"  taken  by  itself,"  good  —  while  it  lasts,  and  before  any 
bad  consequences  have  set  in,  as  good  as  any  other  that 
is  not  more  intense  —  derives  what  plausibility  it  has, 
from  an  ambiguity  in  the  word  "  good."  Pleasure,  taken 
by  itself,  is  undoubtedly  pleasure,  whatever  be  its  source. 
To  affirm  this  is  mere  tautology.  And,  if  we  chose  to 
make  "  good  "  but  a  synonym  for  pleasure,  we  remain  in 
the  same  tautology  when  we  affirm  that  every  pleasure  is 
a  good.  But  Bentham  assumed  that  good  in  this  sense 
and  moral  good  are  the  same  thing. 

His  assumption  is  not  borne  out  by  the  moral  judgments 
of  mankind.  Even  a  cursory  view  of  those  moral  judg- 
ments as  revealed  in  customs,  laws  and  public  opinion 
makes  it  evident  that,  under  certain  circumstances, 
pleasure  is  regarded  as,  from  a  moral  standpoint,  a  good, 
and,  under  other  circumstances,  an  evil.  Torn  out  of  its 
setting,  it  is  simply  pleasure,  a  psychological  phenomenon 
like  any  other,  with  no  ethical  significance. 

Take  the  case  of  the  pleasure  enjoj^ed  by  the  malignant 
man.  It  may  be  intense,  if  he  be  peculiarly  susceptible 
to  such  pleasure.  The  pain  suffered  by  his  victim  may 
conceivably  be  less  intense.  Both  may  die  before  the 
"  bad  consequences,"  that  is  to  say,  other  pains,  arrive. 
There  may  be  no  spectators.    Is,  in  such  a  case,  the  pleas- 

31  §  106,  above. 


UTILITARIANISM  241 

ure  one  to  be  called  a  "  good  "  ?  Can  it  be  approved  f 
No  reflective  moralist  would  maintain  that  it  can.  Which 
means  that  the  moralists,  in  ail  ages,  have  meant  by 
"  good  "  something  more  than  pleasure,  taken  abstractly, 
and  that  Bentham's  assumption  may  be  regarded  as  an 
aberration. 

114.  Transfigured  Utilitarianism.  —  It  is  possible  to 
hold  to  a  utilitarianism  more  circumspect  and  less  start- 
ling than  Bentham's.  It  is  possible,  while  maintaining 
that  pleasure  is  the  only  thing  that  an  experienced  and 
reasonable  being  can  regard  as  ultimately  desirable, 
to  maintain  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  rash  for  any  man 
to  attempt  to  seek  his  own  happiness,  or  to  strive  to  pro- 
mote the  general  happiness,  without  taking  into  very 
careful  consideration  the  instincts  and  impulses  of  man 
and  the  nature  of  the  social  organization  which  has  re- 
sulted from  man's  being  what  he  is.  One  may  argue 
that  the  experience  of  the  race  is,  as  a  rule,  a  safer  guide 
than  the  independent  judgment  of  the  individual;  and 
that,  in  the  secular  endeavor  to  compass  the  general 
happiness,  it  has  discovered  the  paths  to  that  goal  which 
may  most  successfully  be  followed.  Thus,  one  may  dis- 
trust Utopian  schemes,  recognizing  the  significance  of 
custom,  law,  traditional  moral  maxims,  and  public  opin- 
ion, and  yet  remain  a  utilitarian. 

But  he  who  does  this  must  still  answer  the  preceding 
objections.  He  must  prove:  (1)  That  pleasure  is  the 
only  thing  ultimately  desirable;  (2)  that  each  is  under 
obligation  to  promote  the  pleasure  of  all;  (3)  that  its 
mere  conduciveness  to  the  production  of  a  preponderance 
of  pleasure  makes  an  action  right,  even  though  the  pleas- 
ure be  a  malicious  one,  as  in  the  illustration  above  given. 


242       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

Still,  his  doctrine  has  become  less  startling,  and  he  has 
moved  in  the  direction  of  a  greater  harmony  with  the 
moral  judgments  of  men  generally.  The  conduct  he  rec- 
ommends need  not,  as  a  rule,  differ  greatly  from  that 
recognized  as  right  by  moralists  of  quite  different  schools. 

Such  a  utilitarian  may  easily  pass  over  to  a  form  of 
doctrine  which  is  not  utilitarian  at  all.  Thus,  Sidgwick 
asks  whether  there  is  a  measurable  quality  of  feeling 
expressed  by  the  word  "  pleasure,"  which  is  independent 
of  its  relation  to  volition,  and  strictly  undefinable  from 
its  simplicity  — "  like  the  quality  of  feeling  expressed 
by  '  sweet,'  of  which  also  we  are  conscious  in  varying 
degrees  of  intensity;"  and  he  answers:  "  For  my  own  part, 
when  the  term  (pleasure)  is  used  in  the  more  extended 
sense  which  I  have  adopted,  to  include  the  most  refined 
and  subtle  intellectual  and  emotional  gratifications,  no 
less  than  the  coarser  and  more  definite  sensual  enjoy- 
ments, I  can  find  no  common  quality  in  the  feelings  so 
designated  except  some  relation  to  desire  or  volition."  ^^ 

When  we  seek,  then,  to  "  give  pleasure,"  are  we  doing 
nothing  else  than  giving  recognition  to  the  desire  and  will 
of  our  neighbor?  What  has  become  of  the  Greatest  Hap- 
piness Principle?  Has  it  not  dissolved  into  the  doctrine 
of  the  Real  Social  Will? 

32  The  Methods  oj  Ethics,  Book  II,  chapter  ii,  §  2,  4th  Edition. 
Sidgwick  never  appreciably  modified  this  opinion,  which  is 
most  clearly  expressed  in  the  Edition  quoted. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 
NATURE,    PERFECTION,    SELF-REALIZATION 

I.     Nature 

115.  Human  Nature  as  Accepted  Standard.  —  The 
three  doctrines,  that  the  norm  of  moral  action  is  to  follow 
nature,  that  it  is  to  aim  at  the  attainment  of  perfection, 
and  that  it  is  the  realization  of  one's  capabilities,  have 
much  in  common.  They  may  conveniently  be  treated 
in  the  same  chapter. 

Early  in  the  history  of  the  ethics  we  find  the  moralist 
preaching  that  it  is  the  duty  of  man  to  follow  nature, 
and  branding  vice  as  unnatural  and,  hence,  to  be 
abhorred. 

The  word  "  nature,"  thus  used,  has  had  a  fluctuating 
meaning.  Sometimes  the  thought  has  been  predomi- 
nantly of  human  nature,  and  sometimes  the  appeal  has 
been  to  nature  in  a  wider  sense. 

Aristotle,  who  finds  the  "  good  "  of  man  in  happiness 
or  "  well-being,"  points  out  that  this  is  something 
relative  to  man's  nature.  The  well-being  of  a  man 
he  conceives  as,  in  large  part,  "  well-doing,"  and  well- 
doing he  defines  as  performing  the  proper  functions  of 
a  man.^  If  we  ask  him  what  is  proper  or  natural  to  man, 
he  refers  us  to  what  man,  when  fully  developed,  becomes: 
"  What  every  being  is  in  its  completed  state,  that  cer- 

^  Nichomachean  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapters  iv,  vii,  viii. 

243 


244       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

tainly  is  the  nature  of  that  thing,  whether  it  be  a  man, 
a  house,  or  a  horse."  ^  He  conceives  man's  nature,  thus, 
as  that  which  it  is  in  man  to  become.  Toward  this  end 
man  strives;  and  it  is  this  which  furnishes  him  with  the 
law  of  his  action. 

But,  it  may  be  asked,  how  shall  this  end  be  defined  in 
detail?  Individual  men,  who  arrive  at  mature  years, 
are  by  no  means  alike.  Some  we  approve;  some  we  dis- 
approve. We  evidently  appeal  to  a  standard  by  which 
the  individual  is  judged.  The  appeal  to  the  nature  of 
man  helps  us  little  unless  we  can  agree  upon  what  we 
may  accept  as  a  just  revelation  of  that  nature  —  a  pat- 
tern of  some  sort,  divergence  from  which  may  be  called 
unnatural,  and  is  to  be  reprobated. 

Neither  Aristotle,  nor  those  who,  after  him,  took  human 
nature  as  the  moral  norm,  were  without  some  conception 
of  such  a  pattern.  They  kept  in  view  certain  things  that 
men  may  become  rather  than  certain  others.  They  ac- 
cepted as  their  standard  a  type  of  human  nature  which 
tends,  on  the  whole,  to  realize  itself  more  and  more  in 
the  course  of  development  of  human  communities.  But 
as  different  human  societies  differ  more  or  less  in  the 
characteristics  which  they  tend  to  transmit  to  their  mem- 
bers, in  the  kind  of  man  whom  they  tend  to  form,  we 
find  the  ideal  of  human  nature,  with  which  we  are  pre- 
sented, somewhat  vague  and  fluctuating.  Different  traits 
are  dwelt  upon  by  different  moralists.  Still,  the  appeals 
to  human  nature  have  a  good  deal  in  common;  upon 
man's  rational  and  social  qualities  especial  stress  is  apt 
to  be  laid. 

116.  Human    Nature    and    the    Law    of    Nature. — 

2  Politics,  i,  2. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION  245 

"  Every  nature,"  said  Marcus  Aurelius,^  "  is  contented 
with  itself  when  it  goes  on  its  way  well;  and  a  rational 
nature  goes  on  its  way  well,  when  in  its  thoughts  it  as- 
sents to  nothing  false  or  uncertain,  and  when  it  directs 
its  movements  to  social  acts  only,  and  when  it  confines 
its  desires  and  aversions  to  the  things  which  are  in  its 
power,  and  when  it  is  satisfied  with  everything  that  is 
assigned  to  it  by  the  common  Nature." 

In  the  last  clause  the  Stoic  turns  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  man's  nature,  taken  by  itself,  and  dwells  upon 
the  nature  of  the  universe,  which  he  conceives  to  be  con- 
trolled by  reason.  He  thus  gains  an  added  argument 
for  the  obligations  laid  upon  man  by  his  own  nature. 
He  writes: 

"  Every  instrument,  tool,  vessel,  if  it  does  that  for 
which  it  has  been  made,  is  well,  and  yet  he  who  made  it 
is  not  there.  But  in  the  things  which  are  held  together 
by  Nature  there  is  within  and  there  abides  in  them  the 
power  which  made  them ;  wherefore  the  more  is  it  fit  to 
reverence  this  power,  and  to  think  that,  if  thou  dost 
live  and  act  according  to  its  will,  everything  in  thee  is 
is  in  conformity  to  intelligence."  * 

The  law  of  man's  nature  is,  thus,  regarded  as  a  part  of 
the  law  of  Nature  —  "  We  are  all  working  together  to 
one  end,  some  with  knowledge  and  design,  and  others 
without  knowing  what  they  do."  ^  And,  this  being  the 
case,  man  may  take  pattern,  when  he  is  inclined  to  fall 
below  the  standard  of  duty  appropriate  to  him.  by  con- 
sidering humbler  creatures:   "  Dost  thou  not  see  the  little 

3  Thoughts,  translated  by  George  Long,  viii,  7. 
*  Ihid  vi.  40. 
8  Ihid.  vi,  42. 


246       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

plants,  the  little  birds,  the  ants,  the  spiders,  the  bees 
working  together  to  put  in  order  their  several  parts  of 
the  universe?  And  art  thou  unwilling  to  do  the  work  of 
a  human  being?  And  dost  thou  not  make  haste  to  do  that 
which  is  according  to  thy  nature?  "  ^  The  delinquent  is, 
hence,  judged  guilty,  not  merely  of  derogation  from  his 
high  estate,  but  also  of  impiety/ 

117.  Vagueness  of  the  Law  of  Nature.  —  The  question 
of  the  influence  of  religious  belief  upon  a  theory  of  morals 
I  shall  discuss  elsewhere.^  Here  it  is  only  necessary  to 
point  out  that,  if  there  is  vagueness  in  the  appeal  to 
human  nature,  it  can  scarcely  be  dissipated  satisfactorily 
by  simply  turning  to  Nature  in  a  broader  sense.  Shall  we, 
when  in  doubt  as  to  human  behavior,  copy  that  of  the 
brutes?  The  industry  of  some  humble  creatures  it  seems 
edifying  to  dwell  upon;  but  from  the  fact  that  bees  are 
stung  to  death  by  their  sisters  in  the  hive,  or  that  the 
spider  is  given  to  devouring  her  mate,  we  can  hardly 
draw  a  moral  lesson  for  man. 

The  appeal  to  a  Law  of  Nature  so  often  made  in  the 
history  of  ethical  speculation  has  furnished  but  a  vague 
and  elusive  norm.  He  who  makes  it  is  apt  to  fall  back 
upon  the  moral  intuitions  with  which  he  is  furnished, 
and  to  pack  a  greater  or  less  number  of  them  into  his 
notion  of  Natural  Law.^ 

In  Cicero,  Nature  becomes  fairly  garrulous  to  man  on 

8  Ibid.  V,  1. 

7  Ibid,   ix,  1. 

8  See  chapter  xxxvi. 

^  See  Sir  Henry  Maine's  fascinating  chapters  on  the  "  Law 
of  Nature,"  Ancient  Law,  chapters  iii  and  iv.  The  innumerable 
appeals  to  the  Law  of  Nature  contained  in  Grotius's  famous  work 
on  the  "  Law  of  War  and  Peace  "  are  very  illuminating. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION         247 

all  matters  of  deportment:  "  Let  us  follow  Nature,  and 
refrain  from  whatever  lacks  the  approval  of  eye  and  ear. 
Let  attitude,  gait,  mode  of  sitting,  posture  at  table, 
countenance,  eyes,  movement  of  the  hands,  preserve  the 
becomingncss  of  which  I  speak."  ^° 

118.  The  Appeal  to  Nature  and  Intuitionism. — 
The  moralists  who  urge  us  to  follow  nature,  whether 
human  nature  or  Nature  in  a  wider  sense,  we  may,  hence, 
regard  as  intuitionists  of  a  sort.  Those  who  emphasize 
human  nature  evidently  depend  upon  their  moral  intui- 
tions to  give  them  information  as  to  its  characteristics. 
It  is  intuition  that  paints  for  them  their  pattern.  They 
do  not  take  man  as  they  actually  find  him ;  they  call  for 
the  suppression  of  some  traits,  and  the  exaggeration  of 
others. 

Nor  are  those  who  appeal  to  Nature  in  a  wider  sense 
less  guided  by  moral  intuitions.  The  appeal  is  never  made 
without  restrictions  and  limitations.  No  one  dreams  that 
the  bird,  the  ant,  the  spider,  the  bee,  can  be  regarded  as 
satisfactory  teachers  of  morals  to  human  beings.  Each 
may  be  occupied  in  putting  in  order  its  corner  of  the  uni- 
verse; but  the  order  attained  is  not  a  human  order,  and 
there  is  in  it  much  that  is  revolting  to  the  moral  judg- 
ments of  mankind.  Man  must  have  a  standard  of  his  own. 
He  listens  to  Nature  only  when  she  tells  him  what  he 
already  approves. 

As  a  form  of  intuitionism  the  doctrine  of  following 
nature  may  be  criticised  in  much  the  same  way  as  other 
forms.  One  great  merit  it  has.  It  calls  attention  to  the 
fact  that  ethics  is  a  discipline  which  has  no  significance 
abstracted  from  the  nature  of  man.    It  appears  absurd 

^°  De  Officiis,  i,  35,  translated  by  Peabody. 


248       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

to  say  that  man  ought  to  do  what  it  is  not  in  man,  under 
any  conceivable  circumstances,  to  do.  And,  like  other 
forms  of  intuitionism,  it  has  the  merit  of  avoiding  that 
short-circuiting  which  may  easily  prove  seductive  to  the 
egoist  or  the  utilitarian.  He  who  accepts  as  his  end 
either  his  own  happiness  or  that  of  men  generally  may 
easily  be  induced  to  take  short  cuts  to  that  end,  and  pay 
little  attention  to  moral  maxims  as  such.  He  may  treat 
lightly  that  great  system  of  rules  and  observances  by 
which  men  are  guided  in  their  relations  with  one  another, 
and  which  prevent  human  societies  from  relapsing  into 
a  chaos. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  follower  of  nature,  like  other 
intuitionists,  may  easily  be  thrown  into  perplexity  by 
the  fact  that  what  seems  to  him  natural,  and,  hence,  right, 
may  not  be  approved  by  other  men.  He  cannot  prove 
that  he  is  right  and  they  are  wrong.  He  appears  con- 
demned to  take  refuge  in  subjective  conviction,  that  is, 
in  mere  dogmatism. 

n.     Perfection 

119.  Perfection  and  Type.  —  "When  we  speak  of  a 
thing  as  more  or  less  perfect,  we  commonly  mean  that  it 
is  more  or  less  perfect  in  its  kind.  A  good  saw  makes  a 
poor  razor;  a  good  chair,  a  more  than  indifferent  bed. 
A  bee  crushed  by  a  blow,  a  bird  with  a  broken  wing,  we 
regard  as  imperfect.  But  it  scarcely  occurs  to  us  to  ask 
ourselves  whether  the  bee  is  more  or  less  perfect  than  the 
bird,  or  the  bird  than  the  spider.  Swift's  Houyhnhnms 
at  their  best  could  not  be  either  perfect  horses  or  perfect 
men.  They  were  creatures  with  a  perfection  of  their 
own,  and  one  appropriate  to  their  hybrid  nature. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION  249 

To  every  creature  its  own  perfection.  This  principle 
men  seem  to  assume  tacitly  in  their  judgments.  They 
set  up  a  standard  for  each  kind,  and  they  conceive  the 
individual  to  attain  or  to  fall  short,  according  to  the  de- 
gree of  its  approach  to,  or  of  its  divergence  from,  the 
allotted  standard. 

If  we  take  perfection  in  this  sense  —  and  we  usually 
have  no  other  sense  in  mind  in  our  judgments  of  perfec- 
tion—  the  doctrine  that  it  is  the  whole  duty  of  man  to 
strive  to  attain  to  perfection  is  none  other  than  the  doc- 
trine that  it  is  his  duty  to  follow  nature,  his  proper 
nature  as  man.  And  any  difficulties  which  may  legiti- 
mately be  urged  upon  the  attention  of  the  moralist  who 
recommends  the  following  of  nature  may  with  equal 
justice  be  urged  upon  the  attention  of  him  who  exliorts 
us  to  aim  at  perfection. 

Thus,  if  it  is  doubtful  just  what  nature  demands  of 
us,  it  seems  no  less  doubtful  what  obligations  are  laid 
upon  us  when  we  make  perfection  our  goal.  That  goal 
cannot  mean  for  each  man  simply  the  developing  to  the 
utmost  of  all  the  capacities  which  he  possesses.  There 
are  men  rich  in  the  possibilities  of  sloth,  of  indifference 
to  future  good,  of  egoism,  even  of  malignant  feeling. 
Nor  does  the  average  man  furnish  the  pattern  of  per- 
fection. The  perfectionist  does  not  regard  the  average 
man  as  the  embodiment  of  his  ideal.  He  seeks  to 
better  him. 

That,  in  striving  to  attain  perfection,  a  man  should 
remain  a  man,  with  essentially  human  characteristics, 
seems  evident.  But  what  sort  of  a  man  he  should  be  is 
not  as  clear.  Until  we  are  in  a  position  to  give  some 
reasoned  account  of  what  we  mean  by  perfection  as  an 


250       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

ideal,  and  to  show  that  it  is  a  desirable  goal  for  man, 
we  appear  to  be  setting  up  but  a  vague  end  for  human 
endeavor,  and  to  be  assuming  intuitively  that  it  is  a 
desirable  end. 

120.  More  and  Less  Perfect  Types.  —  So  much  for 
perfection  as  synonymous  with  the  ideal  human  nature 
of  which  ancient  and  modern  moralists  have  treated. 
It  appears,  however,  possible  to  use  the  word  "  perfec- 
tion "  in  a  somewhat  different  sense. 

Man  is  not  merely  man;  he  is  a  living  being,  and  there 
are  living  beings  of  many  orders.  The  plants,  the  sim- 
pler forms  of  animal  life,  the  brutes  which  we  recognize 
as  standing  nearer  to  us,  and  man  may,  from  this  point 
of  view,  be  referred  to  the  one  series.  Some  members 
of  this  series  we  characterize  as  lower,  and  others  we 
speak  of  as  higher  in  the  scale. 

Now,  such  designations  as  higher  and  lower  cannot 
be  applied  indiscriminately.  There  is  little  sense  in  the 
assertion  that  a  bit  of  string  is  higher  than  a  straight 
line,  or  a  hat  than  a  handkerchief.  Some  significant 
basis  of  comparison  must  be  present.  Things  must  be 
recognized  as  approximating  to  or  diverging  from  an 
accepted  standard  in  varying  degrees. 

Such  a  basis  of  comparison  is  present  when  some  ob- 
jects possess  the  same  qualities  in  a  more  marked  degree 
than  do  others.  But  this  is  not  the  only  possible  basis  of 
comparison.  We  may  assume  that  the  possession  of  cer- 
tain qualities  marks  a  creature  as  higher,  and  that  the 
creature  which  has  them  not,  or  has  them  imperfectly 
developed,  thereby  stamps  itself  as  being  of  a  lower 
order. 

Something  like  this  appears  to  determine  our  judgments 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION  251 

when  we  assign  to  various  creatures  their  place  m  the 
scale  of  living  beings.  We  do  not  mean  that  the  higher 
possess  to  a  greater  degree  all  the  capacities  possessed 
by  the  lower.  Many  things  which  the  plant  does  man 
cannot  do  at  all;  and,  among  the  animals,  those  which 
we  recognize  as  higher  may  be  lacking  in  many  capaci- 
ties present  in  a  marked  degree  in  the  lower.  In  rank- 
ing one  living  creature  as  higher,  and,  thus,  as  more 
perfect,  than  another,  we  assume  that  the  "  nature " 
of  the  one,  with  its  various  capacities  and  lacks  of 
capacity,  is,  on  the  whole,  of  more  worth  than  the 
"  nature  "  of  another. 

It  might  be  maintained  that,  in  his  estimate  of  the 
worth  of  different  kinds  of  beings  man  is  influenced  by 
his  partiality  for  the  distinctively  human,  rating 
creatures  as  lower  or  higher  in  proportion  to  their  di- 
vergence from  or  approximation  to  his  own  type.  Un- 
doubtedly this  plays  a  part  in  men's  judgments.  We 
are  partial  to  ourselves.  And  yet  judgments  of  per- 
fection and  imperfection  cannot  wholly  be  explained 
on  this  principle. 

"  I  think  we  must  admit  without  proof,"  writes  Pro- 
fessor Janet,^^  a  brilliant  apostle  of  the  doctrine  of  per- 
fection, "  that  things  are  good,  even  independently  of 
the  pleasure  which  they  give  us,  in  themselves  and  by 
themselves,  because  of  their  intrinsic  excellence.  If 
anyone  were  to  demand  that  I  should  prove  that  thought 
is  worth  more  than  digestion,  a  tree  more  than  a  heap 
of  stones,  liberty  than  slavery,  maternal  love  than  lux- 
ury, I  could  only  r^ply  by  asking  him  to  demonstrate 

1^  The  Theory  of  Morale,  Book  I.  chapter  iii,  English  transla- 
tion, New  York,  1883,  p.  48. 


252       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

that  the  whole  is  greater  than  one  of  its  parts.  No  sen- 
sible person  denies  that,  in  passing  from  the  mineral 
kingdom  to  the  vegetable  kingdom,  from  this  to  the 
animal  kingdom,  from  the  animal  to  man,  from  the  sav- 
age to  th3  enlightened  citizen  of  a  free  country.  Nature 
has  made  a  continual  advance;  that  is  to  say,  at  each 
step  has  gained  in  excellence  and  perfection." 

One  is  naturally  impelled  to  ask  from  what  point  of 
view  things  so  disparate  as  the  mineral,  the  plant,  the 
brute,  man,  thought  and  digestion,  liberty  and  slavery, 
can  be  compared  with  one  another  at  all,  and  referred 
to  any  sort  of  a  series.  What  is,  in  its  essence,  this  ex- 
cellence or  perfection  of  which  we  have  more  shining 
evidence  as  we  go  up  in  the  scale?  Janet  identifies 
it  with  intensity  of  being,  with  activity.  The  greater 
the  activity,  the  greater  the  perfection. 

To  the  identification  of  perfection  and  activity  we 
may  hesitate  to  assent.  It  does  not  seem  clear  that  there 
is  greater  activity  manifested  in  a  snail  than  in  a  burn- 
ing house,  in  maternal  love  than  in  furious  hate,  in 
quiet  thought  than  in  passion.  Yet  it  seems  significant 
that  judgments  of  worth  do  not  appear  out  of  place  in 
comparing  such  things. 

121.  Perfectionism  and  Intuitionism.  —  Taking  into 
consideration  all  that  is  said  above,  it  seems  not  un- 
reasonable to  conclude: 

(1)  That  in  speaking  of  the  perfection  of  any  creature 
we  very  often  judge  it  only  by  the  standard  set  by  its 
own  type.    We  regard  it  as  a  good  specimen  of  its  kind. 

(2)  But  when  we  use  perfection  in  a  wider  sense, 
we  judge  different  types  after  the  standard  furnished 
by  the  distinctively  human. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION         253 

(3)  And  we  take  as  our  standard  of  the  human  the 
"  pattern  "  man  held  in  view  by  those  who  urge  us  to 
follow  nature. 

But  why  should  this  pattern  man  be  assumed  to  be 
better  or  worthier  than  a  man  of  a  different  sort?  He 
who  finds  in  him  a  greater  exhibition  of  activity  may 
with  equal  justice  address  to  himself  the  question:  Why 
is  activity,  in  itself,  of  value?  The  one  question,  like 
the  other,  looks  for  its  answer  in  the  dictum  of  some 
intuition.  What  may  be  said  for,  and  what  against, 
intuitions,  we  have  already  considered.^^ 

III.     Self-realization 

122.  The  Self-realization  Doctrine.  —  The  ethical 
school  which  makes  the  realization  of  the  capacities  of 
the  self  the  aim  of  moral  action  has  for  a  generation, 
especially  in  England  and  America,  had  the  support 
of  many  acute  and  scholarly  minds.  The  doctrine,  often 
spoken  of  as  the  Neo-Kantian  or  the  Neo-Hegelian,  may 
be  said  to  be  influenced  by  Kant,  so  far  as  concerns  meta- 
physical theory,  but  its  ethical  character  is  more  properly 
Hegelian  and  suggests  in  many  particulars  that  great 
German  philosopher's  "  Philosophy  of  Right." 

We  may  conveniently  take  as  the  protagonist  of  the 
school  the  Oxford  scholar,  Thomas  Hill  Green,  whose 
"  Prolegomena  to  Ethics  "  has  had,  directly  and  indi- 
rectly, a  powerful  influence  upon  the  minds  of  the  men 
of  our  generation. 

We  find  the  doctrine  of  self-realization,  as  set  forth 
by  Green,  to  be  as  follows: 

(1)  In  all  desire  some  object  is  presented  to  the  mind 

12  See  chapter  xxiii. 


254       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

as  not  yet  real,  and  there  is  a  striving  to  make  it  real, 
and  thus  to  satisfy,  or  extinguish,  the  desire." 

(2)  Self-consciousness  knits  the  desires  into  a  system, 
and  thus  attains  to  the  conception  of  "  well-being,"  which 
implies  the  satisfaction  of  desire  in  general,  and  not 
merely  of  this  or  that  desire.^'* 

(3)  "  Good  "  is  that  which  satisfies  some  desire.  Any 
good  at  which  an  agent  aims  must  be  his  own  good ;  and 
"  true  good  "  is  nothing  else  than  "  permanent  well- 
being."" 

(4)  A  desire  is  determined  by  the  nature  of  the  crea- 
ture desiring;  man  can  attain  satisfaction  only  in  the 
realization  of  his  capacities.  His  true  good  lies  only 
in  their  complete  realization  —  in  his  becoming  all  that 
it  is  in  him  to  become.^® 

(5)  But  man  is  a  social  being,  and  has  an  interest 
in  other  persons  than  himself.  Hence  his  complete  self- 
satisfaction  implies  the  satisfaction  of  his  social  as  well 
as  of  his  other  impulses.  That  is,  his  true  good  includes 
the  good  of  others.^" 

(6)  We  can  only  discover  what  our  "  capacities  "  are 
by  observing  them  as  so  far  realized,  and  thus  gaining 
the  idea  of  future  progress.  The  ultimate  end  is  un- 
known to  us.^^ 

(7)  But  we  see  enough  to  recognize  that  man's  capac- 
ities can  be  realized,  his  self-satisfaction  intelligently 
sought,  only  in  a  social  state  based  upon  the  notion  of 

13  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  131. 

14  Ibid.,  §  128. 

15  Ibid.,  §  §  190,  92,  203. 

16  Ibid.,  §  §  171-2,  180. 

17  Ibid.,  §  §  199-205. 

18  Ibid.,  §  172. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION  255 

the  common  good.  The  right  reveals  itself  in  the  actual 
evolution  of  society.^^ 

123.  The  Doctrine  Akin  to  That  of  Following  Na- 
ture.—  The  self-realization  doctrine  has  much  in  com- 
mon with  the  doctrine  of  following  nature.     Thus: 

L  It  evidently  does  not  recommend  the  realization  of 
all  the  capacities  of  the  individual  as  such,  but  holds  in 
view   a  "  pattern  "  man. 

2.  This  is  social  man,  the  true  representative  of  human 
nature  as  conceived  by  the  ancient  Stoic.  Green  holds 
before  himself  "  the  ideal  of  a  society  in  which  every- 
one shall  treat  everyone  else  as  his  neighbor,  in  which 
to  every  rational  agent  the  well-being  or  perfection  of 
every  other  such  agent  shall  be  included  in  that  perfection 
for  which  he  lives."  -°  The  same  thought  was  more  pithily 
expressed  by  Marcus  Aurelius  in  the  aphorism  that 
"  what  is  good  for  the  hive  is  good  for  the  bee." 

3.  We  find,  too,  the  analogue  of  that  wider  appeal  to 
nature  which  suffused  the  Stoic  doctrine  with  religious 
feeling.  In  the  above  brief  recapitulation  of  the  steps 
in  the  self-realization  doctrine  I  have  omitted  this  aspect, 
as  I  wished  to  confine  myself  to  the  ethical  doctrine  pure 
and  simple.  But  Green  conceives  of  the  Divine  Con- 
sciousness as  already  having  before  it  the  consummation 
toward  which  man  strives  in  his  efforts  at  self-realiza- 
tion; he  regards  man  as  working  toward  the  attainment 
of  a  Divine  Purpose.  The  self-realizationist  may  prefer, 
sometimes,  to  use  language  more  abstract.  He  may  say: 
"  Man's  consciousness  of  himself  as  a  member  of  society 
involves  a  reference  to  a  cosmic  order."  -^     But  the  dif- 

19  Ibid.,  §  §  172-76,  205. 

20  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  205. 

21  MuiRHE.\D,  The  Elements  of  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapter  iii,  §  10. 


256       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

ference  of  language  scarcely  carries  with  it  a  substantial 
difference  of  thought.^^ 

4.  As  the  appeal  to  human  nature,  or  to  nature  in  a 
broader  sense,  left  the  norm  for  the  guidance  of  human 
actions  somewhat  vague,  so  the  appeal  to  the  principle  of 
self-realization  seems  to  leave  one  without  very  definite 
guidance.  '  There  may  easily  arise  disputes  touching 
what  capacities  are  to  be  realized,  and  in  what  degree. 

124.  Is  the  Doctrine  more  Egoistic?  —  One  difference 
between  the  principles  of  following  nature,  striving  to  at- 
tain to  perfection,  and  aiming  at  self-realization  seems  to 
force  itself  upon  our  notice.  On  the  surface,  at  least,  the 
last  doctrine  appears  to  stand  out  as  more  distinctly  ego- 
istic. The  very  name  has  an  egoistic  flavor;  the  doctrine 
bases  itself  upon  the  satisfaction  of  desire;  nor  do  its 
advocates  hesitate  to  emphasize  that  the  satisfaction 
sought  is  the  satisfaction  of  the  agent  desiring.  In  the 
chapter  on  Egoism  ^^  I  have  cited  some  utterances  which 
sound  egoistic,  and  such  citations  might  be  multiplied. 

Nevertheless,  from  this  egoistic  root  springs  a  flower 
which  disseminates  the  perfume  of  a  saintly  self-abne- 
gation.    How  is  this  seeming  miracle  accomplished? 

The  transition  is  brought  about  through  a  chain  of 
reasoning  which  is  subtle  and  ingenious  in  the  extreme. 
Must  we  not  admit  that  in  all  purposive  action  —  the 
only  action  with  which  the  moralist  need  concern  himself 
—  there  is  a  striving  to  realize  or  satisfy  desire  in  the 

22  "  Though  the  philosopher  as  such  may  shun  the  term  '  God ' 
on  account  of  its  anthropomorphic  associations,  and  may  prefer 
to  .^peak  of  the  '  conscious  principle,'  or  of  the  '  universal  self,' 
yet  the  latter  has  in  substance  the  same  meaning  as  the  former." 
FiTE,  Ay}  IntroducAory  Study  of  Ethics,  chapter  xiii,  §  4. 

23  Chapter  x.\iv. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION  257 

attainment  of  some  object?  And  if  the  desires  of  a  mind 
or  self  converge  upon  some  object,  does  not  its  realization 
imply  the  satisfaction  or  realization  of  the  desires  of 
that  mind  or  self?  Furthermore,  if  our  desires  have  as 
their  root  our  capacities  —  for  we  can  desire  nothing  that 
it  is  not  in  us  to  desire  —  is  not  the  realization  of  desire 
the  realization  of  capacity?  Does  it  not  follow,  hence, 
that  every  mind  or  self,  in  all  purposive  action,  is  striv- 
ing, either  blunderingly  or  with  far-sighted  intelligence, 
to  attain  to  self-satisfaction,  which  means,  to  the  reali- 
zation of  its  capacities?  Finally,  as  men  are  by  nature 
social  creatures,  how  can  a  man  fully  realize  his  capaci- 
ties without  becoming  a  truly  unselfish  being?  Unsel- 
fishness appears  to  be  the  inevitable  goal  of  the  strivings 
for  self-satisfaction  of  an  unselfish  self. 

125.  Why  Aim  to  Realize  Capacities?  —  This  reason- 
ing appears  highly  satisfactory  in  two  very  different 
ways.  It  seems,  on  the  one  hand,  to  stop  the  mouth  of 
the  egoist,  who  insists  that  his  own  advantage  is  his  only 
proper  aim.  It  assures  him  that  he  is  throughout  seeking 
his  own  advantage,  when  he  aims  at  self-realization. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  assures  the  man  to  whom  egoism 
appears  repellant  and  immoral,  that  self-realization 
implies  that  one  must  love  one's  neighbor  as  oneself. 
The  immemorial  quarrel  between  self-love  and  benevo- 
lence appears  to  be  adjusted  to  the  mutual  satisfaction 
of  both  parties. 

Is  the  reasoning  unassailable?  There  are  two  steps  in 
it  which  appear  to  demand  a  closer  scrutiny.  One  is 
the  transition  from  desire  to  capacity ;  the  other,  the  as- 
sumption that  he  who  follows  an  unselfish  impulse  may 
properly  be  said  to  aim  at  self-satisfaction,  and  to  ex- 
ercise no  self-denial. 


258       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

As  to  the  first.  Our  desires  may  have  their  roots  in 
our  capacities,  but  desires  and  capacities  are,  neverthe- 
less, not  the  same  thing. 

Men  do  actually  strive  to  realize  their  desires  —  a 
desire  is  nothing  else  than  such  a  striving  for  realization 
or  satisfaction.  But  it  cannot  be  said  that  men  generally 
strive  to  realize  their  capacities,  except  to  the  limited 
degree  in  which  their  capacities  may  happen  to  be  ex- 
pressed in  actual  desires.  Capacities  may  lie  dormant, 
and  the  man  in  whom  they  lie  dormant  need  not  on  that 
account  feel  dissatisfied,  as  does  the  man  whose  desires 
are  not  realized.  Self-realization,  as  understood  by  the 
school  of  thinkers  which  advocates  it,  implies  much  more 
than  the  satisfaction  of  desire.  It  implies  the  multiplica- 
tion of  desires  and  their  satisfaction.  On  what  ground 
shall  we  persuade  the  contented  egoist,  M'ho  has  but  a 
handful  of  commonplace  desires  and  finds  it  possible  to 
satisfy  most  of  them,  that  it  is  better  to  call  into  being 
a  multitude  of  wants  many  of  which  will  probably  re- 
main unrealized?  He  may  point  out  that  the  divine 
discontent  is  apt  to  leave  the  idealist  and  the  reformer 
as  lean  as  Cassius.  All  of  which  does  not  prove  that 
the  self-realizationist  is  not  right  in  exhorting  men  to 
develop  their  capacities  in  the  direction  of  the  pattern 
which  he  holds  in  view;  but  it  does  seem  to  prove 
that  the  path  to  self-realization,  in  this  sense,  is  not  nec- 
essarily the  path  to  self-satisfaction.  "  The  good  "  has 
come  to  mean  more  than  that  which  satisfies  desire.  How 
shall  we  persuade  men  that  it  is  their  duty  to  make  this 
good  their  end? 

126,  The  Problem  of  Self-sacrifice.  —  As  for  the 
second  point.  He  who  makes  his  moral  aim  self-satisfac- 
tion can  scarcely  be  expected  to  advocate  self-sacrifice- 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION         259 

Accordingly,  we  find  among  self-realizationists,  a  tend- 
ency to  repudiate  altogether  what  may  properly  be  called 
self-denial.  "  Anything  conceived  as  good  in  such  a  way 
that  the  agent  acts  for  the  sake  of  it,"  said  Green,-* 
"  must  be  conceived  as  his  own  good."  "  A  moment's 
consideration  will  show,"  writes  Professor  Fite,  in  his 
clear  and  attractive  book,-^  "  that,  for  self-sacrifice  in 
any  absolute  sense,  no  ground  of  obligation  is  conceiv- 
able. Unless  I  am  in  some  way  interested  in  the 
object  -^  whose  attainment  is  set  before  me  as  a  duty, 
it  seems  to  be  psychologically  impossible  that  I  should 
ever  strive  for  it." 

Now  we  do  seem  compelled  to  concede  that,  unless  a 
man  desires  an  end,  he  cannot  will  that  end.  Anything 
that  is  selected  as  an  end,  and  striven  for,  must  be  desired. 
And  the  attainment  of  the  end  implies,  of  course,  the 
satisfaction  of  that  particular  desire.  But,  admitting 
all  this,  is  not  the  question  left  open  whether  some  de- 
sires may  not  be  sacrificed  to  others;  and  whether,  indeed, 
a  whole  extensive  system  of  desires  may  not,  on  occasion, 
be  sacrificed  to  a  single  desire?  In  this  case,  may  not 
the  transaction  properly  be  called  self-sacrifice?  Sup- 
pose the  desire  to  serve  one's  neighbor,  if  satisfied,  pre- 
vents the  realization  of  a  multitude  of  other  desires  of 
the  same  agent.  Is  it  certain  that  its  satisfaction  does 
not  imply  self-denial? 

127.  Self-satisfaction  and  Self-sacrifice.  —  The  argu- 
ment to  prove  that  it  is  not  really  self-sacrifice  may 
follow  divers  paths. 

2*  Prolegomena,  §  92. 

25  An  Introductory  Study  of  Ethics,  chapter  viii,  §  5. 

28  I.e.,  unless  I  desire  the  object. 


260       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

Thus,  it  may  be  argued  that,  since  the  proper  end  of 
a  rational  being  is  his  own  permanent  good,  the  sacrifice 
of  such  goods  as  do  not  conduce  to  this  end  is  not  self- 
sacrifice.  Sensual  pleasures,  the  satisfaction  of  vanity  or 
ambition,  the  accomplishment  of  a  vengeful  purpose,  an 
excessive  preoccupation  with  one's  own  interests  as  con- 
trasted with  those  of  others  —  such  things  as  these,  it  is 
claimed,  do  not  permanently  satisfy.  That  the  so-called 
man  of  pleasure  is  a  man  upon  whom  pleasures  pall,  and 
that  he  who  seeks  too  earnestly  to  save  his  own  life  is 
apt  to  lose  it,  has  been  reiterated  by  a  long  line  of  profes- 
sional and  lay  moralists  from  Buddha  to  Tolstoi.  The 
refuge  from  the  discontent  arising  out  of  the  attempt 
to  quench  one's  thirst  by  sipping  at  transient  delights  has 
always  been  found  in  altruism  under  some  guise.  The 
self-realizationists  may  claim  that  certain  things  are 
given  up  in  order  that  other  things  more  permanently 
satisfying  to  the  self  may  be  attained,  and  may  deny 
that  this  is  any  renunciation  of  self-satisfaction.^^ 

Again.  It  may  be  argued  that  men's  interests  do  not 
conflict  as  widely  as  is  commonly  supposed.  To  be 
sure,  two  men  may  have  to  struggle  with  each  other  for 
the  pleasure  of  eating  a  given  apple,  of  making  a  pecu- 
niary profit,  of  obtaining  a  coveted  post,  of  being  the  first 
authority  in  a  given  science  or  art,  of  securing  the  affec- 
tions of  a  particular  woman.  Here  one  man's  loss  seems 
to  be  another  man's  gain.  But  two  men  may  enjoy  seeing 
a  child  eat  an  apple,  or  a  deserving  man  profit,  or  their 
common  candidate  win  the  election,  or  their  favorite 
artist  honored,  or  their  beloved  nephew  accepted  by  the 
lady  of  his  choice.     If  one  desires  certain  things,  and 

21^  Green,  op.  cit.,  §  176. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION  261 

certain  things  only,  there  seems  no  reason  why  one's 
desires  should  not  be  in  harmony  with  those  of  others. 

The  things  best  worth  having,  it  is  claimed,  do  not 
admit  of  being  competed  for.-®  If  my  aim  is  unselfish 
devotion  to  humanity,  how  can  I  lose  if  my  neighbor 
attains  in  the  same  running?  Do  virtuous  men,  in  so  far 
^  they  are  virtuous,  stand  in  each  other's  light?  Are 
there  not  as  many  prizes  as  there  are  competitors?  As 
long  as  I  remain  in  this  field  I  may  seek  self-satisfaction 
without  scruple.  I  satisfy  another's  desire  in  satisfying 
my  own.    By  benevolence  I  lose  nothing. 

The  list  of  things  which  one  may  forego  without  self- 
sacrifice  has  been  made  a  long  one.  Even  the  realiza- 
tion of  capacities  highly  valued  by  cultivated  men  has 
been  brought  into  it: 

"  No  conflict,"  writes  Professor  Seth,-^  "  is  possible  be- 
tween the  ends  of  the  individual  and  those  of  society. 
The  individual  may  be  called  upon  to  sacrifice,  for 
example,  his  opportunity  of  esthetic  or  intellectual  cul- 
ture; but  in  that  very  sacrifice  lies  his  opportunity  of 
moral  culture,  of  true  self-realization." 

128.  Can  Moral  Self-sacrifice  be  a  Duty?  — To  this 
position  one  is  tempted  to  demur  until  two  questions 
have  found  a  satisfactory  answer: 

1.  Is  it  true  that  there  is  no  sacrifice  of  self-realization 
or  self-satisfaction,  properly  so  called,  where  all  other 
desires  and  impulses  are  sacrificed  to  the  one  desire  to 
do  right? 

2.  Is  it  not  conceivable,  at  least,  that  obedience  to  an 

28  Green,  Prolegomena  to  Ethics,  §  §  244-245. 
2®  A   Study   of  Ethical  Principles,   Part   II,   chapter   ii,    §  4, 
Edinburgh,   1911,  p.  286. 


262       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

unselfish  impulse  may  result  even  in  the  sacrifice  of  the 
opportunities  of  moral  culture  in  general?  Can  it,  then, 
be  called  self-realization? 

Touching  the  first  question  it  may  plausibly  be  main- 
tained that  the  desires  of  the  self  are  many  and  various, 
and  that  the  satisfaction  of  an  altruistic  impulse  may 
imply  the  sacrifice  of  so  many  of  them  that  the  self 
may  very  doubtfully  be  said  to  attain  to  permanent  sat- 
isfaction when  the  impulse  is  realized.  Aristotle's  hero, 
who,  in  dying  for  his  country,  chooses  the  more  "  honor- 
able "  for  himself,-^°  can  hardly  be  said  in  that  one  act 
to  have  accomplished  a  state  of  permanent  satisfaction 
or  well-being  for  the  self  whose  being  was,  in  that  act, 
brought  to  an  abrupt  termination.  Certain  Stoics  seem 
to  have  taught  that  virtue  is  its  own  adequate  reward 
and  that  nothing  else  matters;  but  this  has  not  been  the 
verdict  of  moralists  generally.  Paley,  who  writes  like 
an  unblushing  egoist,^^  we  may  pass  over;  but  even 
Kant,  a  thinker  of  a  very  different  complexion,  appears 
to  regard  the  mere  doing  of  a  right  act  as  not  a  sufficient 
reward  for  the  doer.  He  looks  for  the  act  to  be  crowned 
with  happiness  in  a  life  to  come,  thus  saving  it  from 
being  mere  self-sacrifice. 

The  second  question  one  approaches  with  some  hesi- 
tation. "  No  moralist,"  writes  Professor  Sidgwick,^-  "  has 
ever  directed  an  individual  to  promote  the  virtue  of 
others  except  in  so  far  as  this  promotion  is  compatible 
with,  or  rather  involved  in,  the  complete  realization  of 
virtue  in  himself."     It  appears  rash  to  admit  to  be  a 

80  Ethics,  Book  IX,  chapter  viii,  §  12. 

31  See  §  96. 

82  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  Introduction. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION         263 

duty  that  which  as  high  an  authority  as  Sidgwick 
maintains  no  moralist  has  ever  ventured  to  advise.  Still, 
it  is  permissible  to  adduce  an  illustration  taken  from 
actual  life,  and  to  ask  the  reader  to  form  his  opinion 
independently. 

A  girl,  anxious  to  provide  her  younger  sister  with  a 
better  lot,  enters  a  factory  and  gives  up  her  life  to  labor 
of  a  monotonous  and  mind-destrojnng  character,  amid 
sordid  and  more  or  less  degrading  surroundings.  The 
act  is  a  heroic  one,  but  is  it  clear  that  it  conduces  to 
the  self-realization,  not  of  the  sister,  but  of  the  agent 
herself?  The  influence  of  surroundings  counts  for  much. 
High  impulses  may,  under  such  pressure,  come  to  be 
repressed. 

"  Capacity  for  the  nobler  feelings,"  writes  Mill,^^  "  is 
in  most  natures  a  very  tender  plant,  easily  killed,  not 
only  by  hostile  influences,  but  by  mere  want  of  suste- 
nance; and  in  the  majority  of  young  persons  it  speedily 
dies  away  if  the  occupations  to  which  their  position  in 
life  has  devoted  them,  and  the  society  into  which  it  has 
thrown  them,  are  not  favorable  to  keeping  that  higher 
capacity  in  exercise.  Men  lose  their  high  aspirations 
as  they  lose  their  intellectual  tastes,  because  they  have 
not  time  or  opportunity  for  indulging  them;  and  they 
addict  themselves  to  inferior  pleasures,  not  because  they 
deliberately  prefer  them,  but  because  they  are  either 
the  only  ones  to  which  they  have  access,  or  the  only  ones 
they  are  any  longer  capable  of  enjoying." 

In  other  words,  one  may  put  oneself  into  a  situation  in 
which  self-realization  appears  to  be  made  a  most  difficult 
and  problematic  goal.      Nor  does  it  seem  inconceivable 

33  Utilitarianism,  chapter  iii. 


264<       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

that  one  should  do  this  for  the  sake  of  another's  good. 
Hence,  even  if  we  restrict  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  self- 
sacrifice  "  to  the  sacrifice  of  the  "  real  "  or  moral  self, 
the  impossibility  of  self-sacrifice  scarcely  appears  to  have 
been  proved;  the  impossibility  of  a  conflict  between  the 
ends  of  the  individual  and  of  society  does  not  appear  to 
be  indubitably  established. 

129.  Self-sacrifice  and  the  Identity  of  Selves.  —  Can 
it  be  maintained  upon  any  other  grounds  than  those 
adduced  above?  One  line  of  argument  remains  open  to 
us.  We  may  maintain  that,  while  two  bodies  are  two 
because  they  occupy  two  portions  of  space,  two  minds, 
as  not  in  space,  cannot  thus  be  held  apart,  and  we  may 
conclude  that ''  the  many  individuals  composing  the  race 
are  not  really  many,  but  one."  "*  I  suppose  that  he  who 
can  take  this  position  will  find  it  natural  to  argue  that 
any  act  which  serves  the  interests  of  any  self  must  be 
regarded  as  serving  the  interests  of  every  self,  and 
thus  cannot  be  considered  as  sacrificing  the  interests 
of  any  self. 

To  these  trascendental  heights,  however,  comparatively 
few  will  be  able  to  climb.  To  men  generally  it  will  still 
appear  that  Peter's  love  to  Paul  is  not  identical  with 
Peter's  love  to  Peter;  and  that  Peter  may  act  in  such 
a  way  that,  on  the  whole,  he  loses,  while  Paul  gains. 
That  the  interests  of  Peter  and  Paul,  as  developed  social 
beings  and  members  of  a  civilized  community,  are  less 
likely  to  be  in  conflict  than  those  of  their  primitive 
cave-dwelling  forerunners  may  be  freely  conceded.  But 
from  such  relative  harmony  to  a  complete  identity  of 
interests  seems  a  far  cry. 

3*  FiTE,  An  Introductory  Study  of  Ethics,  chapter  xii. 


NATURE,    SELF-REALIZATION         265 

130.  Questions  which  Seem  to  be  Left  Open.  —  Evi- 
dently, the  self-realization  doctrine  is  a  great  advance 
upon  the  doctrine  of  following  nature.  The  self- 
realizationist  realizes  that  man's  nature  is  in  the  making, 
and  he  is  not  blind  to  the  difficulty  of  the  task  of  deter- 
mining just  what  the  real  demands  of  human  nature  are. 

This  leads  to  his  laying  much  stress  upon  the  gradual 
development  of  systems  of  rights  and  duties  as  they 
emerge  under  the  actual  conditions  to  which  human 
societies  are  subjected  in  the  course  of  their  evolution. 
He  reads  history  with  comprehending  eyes,  and  rever- 
ences the  human  reason  as  crystallized  in  social  institu- 
tions. Hence,  the  divergence  of  the  moral  standards 
which  obtain  in  different  ages  and  among  different  peo- 
ples does  not  seem  to  him  a  baffling  mystery.  He  can 
find  a  relative  justification  for  each,  and  yet  hold  to  an 
ideal  in  the  light  of  which  each  must  be  judged. 

It  may  be  questioned,  however,  whether  the  edifice 
which  he  erects  can  be  based  wholly  upon  the  appeal 
to  the  self  which  ostensibly  furnishes  the  groundwork 
of  the  doctrine.  We  may  ask  whether  such  an  appeal 
can: 

(1)  Prescribe  to  the  individual  in  what  measure  his 
various  capacities  should  be  realized. 

(2)  Show  that  it  is  reasonable  to  awaken  dormant 
capacities,  and  thus  multiply  desires. 

(3)  Justify  social  acts  which  certainly  appear  to  be 
self-sacrificing,  and  which  the  moral  judgments  of  men 
generally  do  not  hesitate  to  approve. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
THE  ETHICS  OF  EVOLUTION 

131.  The  Significance  of  the  Title.  — The  title,  "The 
Ethics  of  Evolution,"  seems  to  assume  that  the  evolution- 
ist, frankly  accepting  himself  as  such,  must  be  prepared 
to  join  some  school  of  the  moralists  different  from  other 
schools,   and  basing  itself  upon  evolutionary  doctrine. 

That  the  ethical  views  of  individuals  and  of  communi- 
ties of  men  may  undergo  a  process  of  evolution  or  devel- 
opment is  palpable.  The  ethical  notions  of  the  child 
are  not  those  of  the  man,  nor  are  the  moral  ideas  of 
primitive  races  identical  with  those  of  races  more  ad- 
vanced intellectually  and  morally. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  maintain  that  morals  may  be  in 
evolution  in  individuals  and  in  communities,  and  quite 
another  to  hold  that  the  acceptance  of  the  doctrine  of 
evolution,  broadly  taken,  forces  upon  one  some  new  norm 
by  which  human  actions  may  be  judged.  It  was  possible 
for  as  ardent  an  evolutionist  as  Huxley  to  hold  that  evo- 
lution and  ethics  are  not  merely  independent,  but  are 
actually  at  war  with  one  another,  the  competitive  strug- 
gle for  existence  characteristic  of  the  one  giving  place  in 
the  other  to  a  new  principle  in  which  the  rights  of  the 
weak  and  the  helpless  attain  express  recognition.^  And 
Sidgwick,  that  clearest  of  thinkers,  maintains  ^  that  we 

1  Huxley,  Evolution  and  Ethics,  New  York,  1894.  See,  espe- 
cially, the  Prolegomena. 

2  The  Methods  oj  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapter  vi,  §2. 

266 


THE    ETHICS    OF    EVOLUTION         267 

have  no  reason  to  assume  that  it  is  our  duty  as  moral 
beings  simply  to  accelerate  the  pace  in  the  direction 
already  marked  out  by  evolution. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  the  word  evolution  may 
be  used  equivocally.  It  is  not  evident  that  all  evolution 
is  in  the  direction  of  a  life,  brute  or  human,  that  we 
commonly  recognize  as  higher.  There  is  retrogression, 
as  well  as  progress,  where  such  retrogression  is  favored 
by  environment.  We  may  call  this,  if  we  please,  devolu- 
tion. Were  the  conditions  of  his  life  very  unfavorable, 
man  could  not  live  as  he  now  lives;  and,  indeed,  were 
they  sufficiently  unfavorable  —  for  example,  if  the  earth 
cooled  off  to  a  certain  point  —  he  could  not  live  at  all, 
but  would  have  to  give  place  to  a  lowlier  creature  better 
fitted  to  the  conditions.  Must  the  man  who  foresees 
this  end  approaching  strive  to  hasten  its  arrival,  or 
should  he  oppose  it?  In  a  decadent  society,  to  come 
nearer  to  the  problems  which  concern  us  in  ethics,  must 
a  man  strive  to  realize  the  social  will  expressed  in  pro- 
gressive decadence?  Should  he  hasten  the  decline  of 
the  community? 

That  those  who  study  man  as  a  moral  being,  like  those 
who  study  man  in  any  of  his  other  aspects,  will  be 
more  or  less  influenced  in  their  outlook  by  the  broaden- 
ing of  the  horizon  which  results  from  a  study  of  what  the 
students  of  the  evolutionary  process  have  to  tell  us,  may 
be  conceded.  But  when  we  admit  this,  we  do  not  neces- 
sarily have  to  look  for  a  new  norm  by  which  to  judge 
conduct.  We  seem,  rather,  forced  to  ask  ourselves  how 
this  broadening  of  the  horizon  affects  the  norms  which 
have  heretofore  appealed  to  men  as  reasonable.  To  be 
sure,  any  evolutionist  has,  in  the  capacity  of  a  moralist. 


268       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

the  right  to  suggest  a  new  norm.  But,  in  that  case,  he 
must,  like  anj-  other  moralist,  convince  us  that  it  is  a 
reasonable  one. 

132.  Evolution  and  the  Schools  of  the  Moralists.  — 
Those  who  have  suggested  the  norms  discussed  above,  no 
one  would  think  of  as  greatly  influenced  in  their  ethical 
teaching  by  the  doctrine  of  evolution.  Locke,  Price, 
Butler  and  Sidgwick;  Aristippus  and  Epicurus;  Paley 
and  Hobbes;  Bentham  and  i\Iill;  Epictetus  and  Marcus 
Aurelius;  Janet,  Green,  and  the  rest,  no  one  would  be 
inclined  to  class  simply  as  evolutionary  moralists.  Some 
of  them  never  thought  of  evolution  at  all.  How  would 
it  affect  their  standards  of  right  and  wrong  were  evolu- 
tion expressly  taken  into  account?  Would  the  standards 
have  to  be  abandoned?  Or  would  the  men,  as  broader 
men,  merely  have  to  revise  some  of  their  moral 
judgments? 

(1)  It  might  be  supposed  that  the  acceptance  of  evo- 
lutionary doctrine  would  bring  into  being  a  grave  prob- 
lem for  the  intuitionist,  at  least.  If  the  body  and  mind 
of  man  are  products  of  evolution,  must  we  not  admit 
as  much  of  man's  moral  intuitions?  Then  why  not 
admit  that  these  may  be  replaced  some  daj^  by  other 
moral  intuitions  to  be  evolved  in  an  unknown  future? 

He  who  reasons  thus  should  bear  in  mind  that  Sidgwick, 
who  by  no  means  repudiated  the  doctrine  of  evolution, 
was  an  intuitionist,  and  placed  his  ultimate  moral  intu- 
itions on  a  par  with  such  mathematical  intuitions  as  that 
two  and  two  make  four.  If  all  intuitions  are  a  product 
of  evolution,  Sidgwick  might  claim  that  the  moral 
intuitions  he  accepts  fare  no  worse  than  those  elementary 
mathematical  truths  which  we  accept  without  question 


THE    ETHICS    OF    EVOLUTION         269 

and  without  reflection.  And  he  might  maintain  that 
an  appeal  to  evolution  need  cast  no  greater  doubt  upon 
ultimate  moral  truth  than  upon  mathematical.  If  intu- 
itionism  in  all  its  forms  is  to  be  rejected,  it  seems  as 
though  it  must  be  done  upon  some  other  ground  than 
an  appeal  to  evolution. 

(2)  As  to  the  egoist.  It  is  not  easy  to  see  how  the  ap- 
peal to  evolution  need  disconcert  him.  Should  he  be  so 
foolish  as  to  maintain  that  egoism  is  always,  in  fact,  nec- 
essary and  unavoidable  on  the  part  of  every  living  crea- 
ture, he  might  easily  be  refuted  by  a  reference  to  the 
actual  life  of  the  brutes,  where  altruism  can  be  shown  to 
play  no  insignificant  role.  But  if  he  simply  maintains 
that  the  only  reasonable  principle  for  a  man  to  adopt  is 
egoism,  he  may  continue  to  do  so.  He  makes  the  self 
and  its  satisfactions  his  end.  How  can  it  concern  him 
to  learn  how  the  self  came  to  be  what  it  is,  or  what 
it  will  be  in  the  distant  future?  He  panders  to  the 
present  self;  he  may  assume  that  it  will  be  reasonable  to 
pander  at  the  appropriate  time  to  the  self  that  is  to  be, 
whatever  its  nature. 

(3)  The  utilitarian  remains  such  whether  he  makes 
the  greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number  to  consist  in 
pleasure  or  in  some  other  end,  such  as  self-preservation. 
Some  utilitarians,  who  have  been  inclined  to  emphasize 
the  good  of  man,  rather  than  to  extend  even  to  the 
brutes  the  goods  to  be  distributed,  may  be  influenced  to 
extend  the  sphere  of  duties,  if  they  will  listen  to  the 
evolutionist,  who  cannot  well  leave  out  of  view  humbler 
creatures.^ 

^  ''  Thus  we  shall  not  go  ^\Tong  in  attributing  to  the  higher 
animals    in   their   simple    social    life,    not    only    the    elementary 


270       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

He  may  broaden  his  sympathies.  But  this  need  not 
compel  him  to  abandon  his  fundamental  doctrine. 

(4)  A  very  similar  conclusion  may  be  drawn,  when  we 
consider  the  influence  of  an  acceptance  of  the  doctrine 
of  evolution  upon  those  who  would  turn  to  man's  nature, 
to  perfection,  or  to  self-realization,  as  furnishing  the 
norm  of  human  conduct. 

A  Marcus  Aurelius  could,  with  little  reference  to  evolu- 
tion, accept  man's  nature,  or  Nature  in  the  wider  sense, 
as  marking  out  for  man  the  round  of  his  duties.  A 
modern  Darwinian  might  fall  back  upon  much  the 
same  standard,  while  clearly  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
man's  nature  is  not  something  unchangeable,  and  while 
inclined  to  view  Nature  in  general  with  different  eyes 
from  those  of  the  Roman  Stoic.  No  sensible  evolutionist 
would  maintain  that  a  creature  of  a  given  species  should 
act  in  defiance  of  all  the  instincts  of  creatures  of  that 
type,  merely  on  the  ground  that  species  may  be  involved 
in  a  process  of  progressive  development. 

Nor  need  the  perfectionist  abandon  his  perfectionism 
in  view  of  any  such  consideration.  He  who  measures 
perfection  by  the  degree  of  activity  exercised  in  action, 
may  admit  that  the  coming  man  will  be  more  perfect 
than  it  is  possible  for  any  man  to  be  now;  but  that 
need  not  prevent  him  from  holding  that  it  is  man's 
present  duty  to  aim  at  the  only  perfection  possible  to 
him,  he  being  what  he  is.  Similar  reasoning  will 
apply  to  any  other  conception  of  perfection  likely  to 


feelings,  the  loves  and  hates,  sympathies  and  jealousies  which 
underlie  all  forms  of  society,  but  also  in  a  rudimentary  stage 
the  intelligence  which  enables  those  ferlings  to  direct  the  oper- 
ations of  the  animal  .so  as  best  to  gratify  them."  HoBHOUSE, 
Ethics  in  Evolution,  chapter  i,  §  4. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    EVOLUTION         271 

be  adopted,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  by  any  ad- 
herent of  the  school  in  question. 

As  for  the  self-realizationist,  a  very  little  reflection 
seems  sufficient  to  reveal  that  the  maxim  that  it  is 
man's  duty  to  become  all  that  it  is  in  him  to  become 
is  in  no  wise  refuted  by  the  claim  that  man  may,  in 
the  indefinitely  distant  future,  become  much  more  than 
many  people  have  supposed  or  now  suppose. 

(5)  There  remains  the  doctrine  of  the  Rational  Social 
Will  as  furnishing  the  norm  of  conduct.  I  have  tried  to 
show  that  this  doctrine  must  rest  upon  broad  views  of 
man  and  of  man's  environment.  It  is  the  very  essence 
of  the  rational  will  to  take  broad  views,  to  con- 
sider the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future.  Surely  the 
adherent  of  this  school  may  let  the  evolutionist  work  in 
peace,  may  thank  him  for  any  helpful  suggestions  he 
has  to  offer,  and  may  develop  his  own  doctrine  with 
little  cause  for  uneasiness  at  the  thought  that  informa- 
tion given  him  may  refute  his  fundamental  principle. 

However,  it  is  not  out  of  place  for  him  to  point  out, 
if  revolutionary  measures  of  any  sort  are  suggested  by 
this  or  that  evolutionist,  that  ethics  is  a  discipline  which 
is  concerned  with  what  men  have  to  do,  here  and  now. 
It  must  take  into  consideration  what  is  advisable  and 
feasible.  Utopian  schemes  which  break  violcntl}'  with 
the  actual  order  of  things  and  the  normal  development 
of  human  societies  may  be  suggested  by  evolution- 
ists, as  they  have  been  suggested  by  men  who 
were  not  evolutionists  at  all.  They  are  not  to  be  taken 
much  more  seriously  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other. 

133.  The  Ethics  of  Individual  Evolutionists.  —  Such 
considerations  seem  to  make  it  evident  that  the  accept- 


272       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

ance  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  should  have  no  other 
influence  upon  us  as  moralists  than  that  of  making  us 
take  broad  views  of  man  and  of  his  environment.  It 
still  remains  to  find  a  norm  of  conduct,  and  evolutionists, 
like  other  men,  may  develop  ethical  systems  which  are 
not  identical.  It  is  worth  while  here  to  touch  very  briefly 
upon  the  suggestions  of  one  or  two  individual  evolution- 
ists. Those  who  speak  of  the  ethics  of  evolution  are  very 
apt  to  have  such  in  mind. 

Thus,  Darwin,  whose  study  of  the  lower  animals  led 
him  to  believe  that  the  social  instincts  have  been  devel- 
oped for  the  general  good  rather  than  for  the  general 
happiness  of  the  species,  defines  the  "  good  "  as  "  the  rear- 
ing of  the  greatest  number  of  individuals  in  full  vigor  and 
health,  with  all  their  faculties  perfect,  under  the  con- 
ditions to  which  they  have  been  subjected."  The 
"  greatest  happiness  principle  "  he  regards  as  an  import- 
ant secondary  guide  to  conduct,  while  making  social 
instinct  and  sympathy  primary  guides.* 

Spencer  maintains  that  the  evolution  of  conduct  be- 
comes the  highest  possible  when  the  conduct  "  simul- 
taneously achieves  the  greatest  totality  of  life  in  self,  in 
offspring,  and  in  fellow-men."  "  The  conduct  called 
good,"  he  writes,  '*'  rises  to  the  conduct  conceived  as 
best,  when  it  fulfills  all  three  classes  of  ends  at  the  same 
time."  But  life  he  does  not  regard  as  necessarily  a 
good.  He  judges  it  to  be  good  or  bad  "  according  as 
it  has  or  has  not  a  surplus  of  agreeable  feehng."  Hence, 
"  conduct  is  good  or  bad  according  as  its  total  effects 
are  pleasurable  or  painful."  ° 

*  The  De-scent   of  Man,  chapter  iv,  concluding  remarks. 
^  The  Data  oj  Ethics,  chapter  iii,  §  §  8  and  10. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    EVOLUTION         273 

To  be  sure,  Spencer  criticises  the  utilitarians,  and 
thinks  little  of  the  Benthamic  calculus  of  pleasures.  He 
believes  that  we  should  substitute  for  it  something  more 
scientific,  a  study  of  the  processes  of  life.  In  his  earlier 
writings  he  appears  to  be  largely  in  accord  with  the  in- 
tuitionists  in  judging  of  conduct,  regarding  intuitions 
as  having  their  origin  in  the  experiences  of  the  race. 
Nor  does  he  ever  seem  inclined  to  break  with  intuition- 
ism  completely.  But,  as  we  have  seen  above  (§108), 
there  appears  to  be  nothing  to  prevent  a  utilitarian  from 
being  an  intuitionist  of  some  sort,  as  well. 

Stephen,  in  his  clear  and  beautifully  written  work  on 
morals,  also  accepts  the  general  happiness  as  the  ulti- 
mate end  of  reasonable  conduct;  and  he,  too,  criticizes 
the  current  utilitarianism.  He  writes:  "  This,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  represents  the  real  difference  between  the  util- 
itarian and  the  evolutionist  criterion.  The  one  lays 
down  as  a  criterion  the  happiness,  the  other  the  health 
of  society."  ^  By  which,  of  course,  he  does  not  mean 
merely  physical  health,  but  such  a  condition  of  vigor 
and  efficiency  as  carries  with  it  a  promise  of  continued 
existence  and  well-being  in  the  future. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  multiply  instances.  It  can  read- 
ily be  seen  that  all  three  of  the  writers  cited  are  utili- 
tarians, and  the  last  two  are  what  have  been  character- 
ized as  hedonistic  utilitarians.  That  they  suggest  this 
or  that  means  of  best  attaining  to  the  desired  goal  does 
not  put  them  outside  of  a  school  which  embraces  men 
of  many  shades  of  opinion. 

6  The  Science  of  Ethics,  London,  1882,  chapter  ix,  §  12. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 
PESSIMISM 

134.  The  Philosophy  of  the  Pessimist.  —  With  phi- 
losophy in  general  this  volume  has  little  to  do;  but  as 
pessimism  is  not  the  doctrine  of  normal  men  generally, 
but  is  apt  to  be  identified  in  our  minds  with  the  teachings 
of  certain  of  its  leading  exponents,  it  may  be  well  to 
give,  in  briefest  outline,  the  type  of  reasonings  upon 
which  the  pessimist  may  take  his  stand. 

Schopenhauer  held  that  the  one  World- Will,  which 
manifests  itself  in  all  nature,  inorganic  and  organic,  and 
is  identical  with  the  will  of  which  each  man  is  conscious 
in  himself,  is  a  "  will  to  live."  When  the  World-Will 
becomes  conscious,  as  it  does  in  man,  the  will  to  live  is 
consciously  asserted.  But  the  will  to  live  is  essentially 
blind  and  unreasoning,  or  it  would  not  do  anything  so 
stupid  as  to  will  life  of  any  sort.     He  writes: 

"  Only  a  blind  will,  no  seeing  will,  could  place  itself 
in  the  position  in  which  we  behold  ourselves.  A  seeing 
will  would  rather  have  soon  made  the  calculation  that 
the  business  did  not  cover  the  cost;  for  such  a  mighty 
effort  and  struggle,  with  the  straining  of  all  the  powers, 
under  constant  care,  anxiety  and  want,  and  with  the 
inevitable  destruction  of  every  individual  life,  finds  no 
compensation  in  the  ephemeral  existence  itself,  which  is 
so  obtained,  and  which  passes  into  nothing  in  our  hands."  ^ 

1  The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,  translated  by  Haldane  and 
Kemp,  London,  1896.  On  the  Vanity  and  Suffering  oj  Lije.  Vol- 
ume III,  p.  390. 

274 


PESSIMISM  275 

The  basis  of  all  will,  says  Schopenhauer,  is  need, 
deficiency,  and,  hence,  pain.  He  dwells  at  length  upon 
the  misery  of  life,  and  the  desirability  of  a  release  from 
life.  The  refuge  of  suicide  at  once  suggests  itself,  but 
is  rejected  by  Schopenhauer  on  the  ground  that  the 
destruction  of  the  individual  cannot  prevent  the  One 
"Will  from  manifesting  itself  in  other  individuals.  Curi- 
ously enough  he  appears  to  approve  of  suicide  by  star- 
vation, as  indicating  a  renunciation  of  the  will  to  live. 
But  his  general  recommendation  is  asceticism,  renunci- 
ation of  the  striving  for  pleasure,  the  voluntary  accept- 
ance of  pain.  Through  this  the  Will  is  to  be  taught  to 
apprehend  its  own  nature,  and,  thus,  to  deny  itself. 
How  a  general  asceticism  on  our  part  will  rob  the  one 
universal  Will,  revealed  in  the  mineral,  vegetable  and 
animal  worlds,  of  its  nature,  and  still  its  strivings,  the 
great  pessimist  does  not  indicate. 

At  this  point,  von  Hartmann,  who  may  fairly  be 
called  Schopenhauer's  pupil,  takes  up  the  tale.  He  sug- 
gests that  it  is  conceivable  that  a  universal  negation  of 
the  will  may  be  obtained,  if  the  preponderating  part  of 
the  actual  World- Will  should  come  to  be  contained  in 
the  conscious  minds  that  resolve  to  will  no  more.  This 
he  thinks  may  neutralize  the  whole,  and  put  an  end  to 
existence,  which  is  unavoidably  an  evil,  and  implies 
a  preponderance  of  pain.^ 

135.  Comment  on  the  Ethics  of  Pessimism.  —  On  the 

metaphysics  of  the  pessimists  I  shall  make  no  comment 

save  that  there  appears  to  be  here  sufficient  vagueness 

to  satisfy  the  most  poetical  of  minds.    But  the  following 

points  in  the  ethics  of  pessimism  should  be  noted: 

2  Philosophy  of  the  Unconscious,  "  Metaphysic  of  the  Uncon- 
scious," chapter  xiv. 


276       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

(1)  Pleasure  and  pain  are  made  the  measure  of  the 
desirability  or  undesirability  of  existence. 

(2)  It  is  assumed  that  pleasure  and  pain  are  meas- 
urable; und  that  they  may  be  quantitatively  balanced 
against  one  another  in  such  a  way  that  this  or  that 
mixture  of  them  may  be  declared  by  an  enlightened 
man  to  be,  on  the  whole,  desirable  or  the  reverse. 

(3)  It  is  claimed  that  the  balance  must  necessarily 
incline  to  the  side  of  pain,  and  hence,  that  life  is  not 
worth  living. 

(4)  It  follows  from  all  this  that  it  is  our  duty  to 
aim,  not  necessarily  directly,  but  in  some  manner,  at 
least,  at  the  destruction  of  life  everywhere. 

(5)  I  beg  the  reader  to  observe  that  the  above  doc- 
trine rests  upon  assumptions  which  seem  to  be  made 
without  due  consideration.     Thus: 

(a)  It  is  by  no  means  to  be  assumed  without  question 
that  pleasure  and  pain  alone  are  the  measure  of  the 
desirable.  They  are  not  the  only  things  actually  desired ; 
and,  if  we  assert  that  they  alone  are  desirable,  we  fall 
back  upon  a  dubious  intuition. 

ib)  The  quantitative  relations  of  pleasures  and  pains 
are  legitimate  subjects  of  dispute,  as  we  have  seen  in 
earlier  chapters  in  this  volume.  When  is  one  pleasure 
twice  as  great  as  another?  How  can  we  know  that 
three  pleasures  counterbalance  a  pain?  Is  it  by  the 
mere  fact  that  we  will  as  we  do,  in  a  given  instance? 
Then  how  prove  that  we  will  as  we  do,  because  of  the 
equivalence  of  the  pleasure  to  the  pain? 

(c)  Who  shall  decide  for  us  whether  life  is  —  not  de- 
sired, it  is  admittedly  that,  as  a  rule,  —  but,  also, 
desirable? 


PESSIMISM  277 

May  the  man  who  denies  it  rest  his  assertion  upon 
such  general  considerations  as  that  satisfaction  pre- 
supposes desire,  and  that  desire  impUes  a  lack,  and, 
hence,  pain?  The  famous  author  of  "  Utopia  "  pointed 
out  long  ago  that  the  pains  of  hunger  begin  before  the 
pleasure  of  eating,  and  only  die  when  it  does.  Shall 
we,  then,  regard  a  hearty  appetite  as  a  curse,  to  be 
mitigated  but  not  wholly  neutralized  by  a  series  of 
good  dinners? 

To  be  sure,  the  pessimists  do  not  depend  wholly  upon 
such  general  arguments,  but  point  out  in  great  detail 
that  there  is  much  suffering  in  the  world,  and  that  the 
fulfillment  of  desire,  when  it  is  attained,  often  results 
in  disillusionment.  But  the  fact  remains  that  life,  such 
as  it  is,  is  desired  by  men  and  other  creatures  generally ; 
desired  not  as  an  exception,  and  under  a  misappre- 
hension, but,  as  a  rule,  even  by  the  enlightened  and 
the  far-seeing. 

Is  not  the  desirable  what  is  desired  by  the  rational 
will?  We  have  seen  that  the  rational  social  will  does 
not  aim  at  the  suppression  of  desires  generally,  but  only 
at  the  suppression  of  such  desires  as  interfere  with 
broader  satisfactions.  Viewed  from  this  stand-point, 
the  pessimist's  "  denial  of  the  will  to  live  "  appears  as 
an  expression  of  the  accidental  or  irrational  will.  It  is 
not  an  expression  of  the  nature  of  man,  but  of  the 
nature  of  the  pessimist. 

(6)  It  is,  perhaps,  worth  while  to  point  out  that  there 
is  nothing  to  prevent  a  given  pessimist  from  being  an 
intuitionist,  an  egoist,  a  utilitarian  (of  a  sort),  or  an 
adherent  of  one  of  the  other  schools  above  discussed. 
He  may  assume  intuitively  that  life  is  undesirable;  in 


278       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

view  of  its  undesirability  he  may  act,  either  taking 
himself  alone  into  consideration,  or  including  his 
neighbor;  he  may  invoke  the  doctrine  of  evolution;  he 
may  even,  if  he  chooses,  call  it  self-realization  to  anni- 
hilate himself,  for  he  may  argue  that  a  will  that  comes 
to  clear  consciousness  must  see  that  it  must  be  its  own 
undoing.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out,  however, 
that  the  pessimist,  as  such,  should  not  be  in  any  wise 
confounded  with  the  moralists  discussed  in  the  five 
chapters  preceding. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 
KANT,   HEGEL    AND    NIETZSCHE 

136.  Kant.  —  It  is  impossible,  in  any  brief  compass, 
to  treat  of  the  many  individual  moralists,  some  of  them 
men  of  genius  and  well  worthy  of  our  study,  who  offer 
us  ethical  systems  characterized  by  differences  of  more 
or  less  importance.  When  we  refer  a  man  to  this  or 
that  school  and  do  no  more,  we  say  comparatively  little 
about  him,  as  has  become  evident  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ters. As  we  have  seen,  it  has  been  necessary  to  class 
together  those  who  differ  rather  widely  in  many  of  their 
opinions.  Here,  I  shall  devote  a  few  pages  to  three  men 
only,  partly  because  of  their  prominence,  and  partly 
because  it  is  instructive  to  call  attention  to  the  contrast 
between  them  in  their  fundamental  positions.  I  shall 
begin  with  Kant. 

Kant  held  that  the  human  reason  issues  ''  categorial 
imperatives,"  that  is  to  say,  unconditional  commands  to 
act  in  certain  ways.  The  motive  for  moral  action  must 
not  be  the  desire  for  pleasure,  but  solely  the  desire  to  do 
right. 

He  makes  his  fundamental  rule  abstract  and  formal: 
"  So  act  that  you  could  wish  your  maxim  to  be  universal 
law."  As  no  man  could  wish  to  be  himself  neglected 
when  in  distress,  this  law  compels  him  to  be  benevolent, 
and  a  new  form  of  the  fundamental  rule  is  developed: 

279 


280       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

"  Treat  humanity,  in  yourself  or  any  other,  as  an  end 
always,  and  never  as  a  means.^ 

Now  Kant,  although  he  maintains  that  it  is  not  a 
man's  duty  to  seek  his  own  happiness  —  a  thing  which 
natural  inclination  would  prompt  him  to  do  —  by  no 
means  overlooks  happiness  altogether.  He  thinks  that 
virtue  and  happiness  together  constitute  the  whole  and 
perfect  good  desired  by  rational  beings.  The  attainment 
of  this  good  must  be  the  supreme  end  of  a  will  morally 
determined.-  We  are  morally  bound  to  strive  to  be 
virtuous  ourselves  and  to  make  others  happy. 

Still,  each  man's  happiness  means  much  to  him;  and 
Kant,  convinced  that  virtue  ought  to  be  rewarded  with 
happiness,  holds  that  our  world  is  a  moral  world,  where 
God  will  reward  the  virtuous.  If  we  do  not  assume 
such  a  world,  he  claims,  moral  laws  are  reduced  to  idle 
dreams.^ 

Such  utterances  as  the  last  may  well  lead  the  utili- 
tarian to  question  whether  Kant  was  quite  whole-hearted 
in  his  doctrine  of  the  unconditional  commands  of  the 
practical  reason  of  man.  They  appear  to  be  not  inde- 
pendent of  all  consideration  of  human  happiness. 

I  shall  not  ask  whether  Kant  was  consistent.  Great 
men,  like  lesser  men,  seldom  are.  But,  in  order  that 
the  contrast  between  his  doctrine  and  those  of  the  two 
writers  whom  I  shall  next  discuss  may  be  brought  out 
clearly,  I  shall  ask  that  the  following  points  be  kept 
well  in  mind: 

(1)  Kant  was  an  out-and-out  intuitionist.     He  goes 

^  Fundamental  Principles  of  the  Mctaphysic  of  Morals,  §  2. 

2  Dialectic  of  the  Pure  Practical  Reason,  chapter  ii, 

3  Ibid. 


KANT,    HEGEL    AND    NIETZSCHE      281 

directly  to  the  practical  reason  of  man  for  an  enunciation 
of  the  moral  law. 

(2)  Moral  rules  of  lesser  generality,  such  as  those 
touching  benevolence,  justice  and  veracity,  he  traces 
to  the  practical  reason,  making  them  independent  of 
all  considerations  of  expediency.  Thus  he  defends  the 
body  of  moral  truth  accepted  by  so  many  of  his 
fellow-moralists. 

(3)  His  "  practical  reason  "  speaks  directly  to  the 
individual.  Kant  looked  within,  not  without.  We  may 
call  him  an  ethical  individualist.  Socrates,  when  on 
trial  for  his  life,  listened  for  the  voice  of  the  divinity 
within  him.     He  needed  no  other. 

137.  Hegel. —  In  strongest  contrast  to  the  individu- 
alism of  Kant  stands  the  doctrine  of  Hegel.  To  the 
latter,  duty  consists  in  the  realization  of  the  free  reason- 
able will  —  but  this  will  is  identical  in  all  individuals,* 
and  its  realization  reveals  itself  in  the  customs,  laws 
and  institutions  of  the  state.  From  this  point  of  view 
the  individual  is  an  accidental  thing;  the  ethical  order 
revealed  in  society  is  permanent,  and  has  absolute 
authority.  It  is  true,  however,  that  it  is  not  something 
foreign  to  the  individual ;  he  is  conscious  of  it  as  his  own 
being.     In  duty  he  finds  his  liberation.^ 

But  what  is  a  man's  duty?  "  What  a  man  ought 
to  do,"  says  Hegel,^  "  what  duties  he  should  fulfill  in 
order  to  be  virtuous,  is  in  an  ethical  community  easy 
to  say  —  the  man  has  only  to  do  what  is  presented, 
expressed  and  recognized  in  the  established  relations  in 
which  he  finds  himself." 

*  The  Philosophij  oj  Right,  §  209. 
=^  Ibid.,  §  §  145-149. 
6  Ibid.,  §  150. 


282       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

In  other  words,  he  ought  to  do  just  what  his  com- 
munity prescribes!  This  seems,  taken  quite  literally,  a 
startling  doctrine. 

It  would  be  a  wrong  to  Hegel  to  take  him  quite 
literally,  for  he  elsewhere  ^  makes  it  plain  that  he  by 
no  means  approves  of  all  the  laws  and  customs  that 
have  obtained  in  various  societies.  Still,  he  exalts  the 
law  of  the  state  and  regards  any  opposition  to  it  on 
the  authority  of  private  conviction  as  "  stupendous  pre- 
sumption." ®  This  is  a  serious  rebuke  to  the  reformer. 
The  individual  must,  according  to  Hegel,  look  for  the 
moral  law  outside  of  himself  —  of  himself  as  an  indi- 
vidual, at  least.     He  must  find  it  in  the  State. 

138.  Nietzsche.  —  Again  a  startling  contrast:  after 
Hegel,  Nietzsche  —  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness, exquisitely,  passionately,  but  scarcely  with  arti- 
culate scientific  utterance.  A  prophet  of  revolt  and 
emancipation;  a  cave-dweller,  who  would  flee  organized 
society  and  the  refinements  of  civilization;  the  rabid 
individualist,  to  whom  the  community  is  the  "  herd," 
and  common  notions  of  right  and  wrong  are  absurdities 
to  be  visited  with  scorn  and  denunciation.  He  makes  a 
strong  appeal  to  young  men,  even  after  the  years  during 
which  the  carrying  of  one's  own  latch-key  is  a  source 
of  elation.  He  appeals  also  to  those  perennially  young 
persons  who  never  attain  to  the  stature  which  befits 
those  who  are  to  take  a  responsible  share  in  the  organ- 
ized efforts  of  communities  of  men. 

With  Nietzsche  the  man,  his  suffering  life,  and  the 
melancholy   eclipse  of  his  brilliant  intellect,  ethics  as 

^  Ibid.,  Introduction. 
8  Op.  cit.,  §  138. 


KANT,    HEGEL    AND    NIETZSCHE      283 

science  is  little  concerned.  In  Nietzsche  the  marvellous 
literary  artist  it  can  have  no  interest.  These  things 
are  the  affair  of  literature  and  biography. 

Here  we  are  concerned  only  with  his  contribution  to 
ethics.  Just  what  that  has  been  it  is  more  difficult  to 
determine  than  would  be  the  case  in  a  writer  more 
systematic  and  scientific.  But  he  makes  it  very  clear 
that  he  repudiates  the  morals  which  have  been  accepted 
heretofore  by  moralists  and  communities  of  men 
generally. 

He  confesses  himself  an  "  immoralist."  He  despises 
man  as  he  is,  and  hails  the  "  Superman,"  a  creature 
inspired  by  the  "  will  to  have  power,"  and  free  from  all 
moral  prejudices,  including  that  of  sympathy  with  the 
weak  and  the  helpless. 

"  Full  is  the  world  of  the  superfluous,"  he  sings  in 
his  famous  dithyramb,''  "  marred  is  life  by  the  many-too- 
many."  .  .  .  "Many  too  many  are  born;  for  the  super- 
fluous ones  was  the  State  devised."  ..."  There,  where 
the  State  ceaseth  —  there  only  commenceth  the  man  who 
is  not  superfluous." 

Man,  says  Nietzsche,  should  regard  himself  as  a 
"  bridge  "  over  which  he  can  pass  to  something  higher.^° 
Upon  the  fact  that  the  Superman  may  have  the  same 
reason  for  regarding  himself  as  a  "  bridge  "  as  the  most 
commonplace  of  mortals,  and  may  begin  anew  with 
loathing  and  self-contempt,  he  does  not  dwell.  Yet,  as 
long  as  progress  is  possible,  man  may  always  be  regarded 

»  Thus  Spake  Zarathus^tra,  I,  xi.  It  is  a  pity  to  read  Nietzsche 
in  any  translation.  His  diction  is  exquisite.  But  those 
who  can  only  read  him  in  English  may  be  referred  to  the 
translations    of   his   works   edited   by    Levy.      New   York,    1911. 

10  Ibid.,  Prologue,  and  I,  IV,  XI,  et  passim. 


2S4       THE    SCHOOLS    OF    THE    MORALISTS 

as  a  ■■  bridge."  The  reader  of  Nietzsche  is  tempted  to 
believe  that  hatred  and  coiiTempi  must  always  be  the 
predominant  emotions  in  the  mind  of  the  "  superior  " 
man.  Danvin.  who  knew  much  more  about  man  and 
natiu-e  than  did  our  passionate  poet,  was  still  able  to 
regard  man  as  "  the  crown  and  glory  of  the  universe." 
Not  so,  Nietzsche. 

Those  who  have  red  ^irhe  m  ethics  are  inclined  to 
attribute  to  Nietzsche  a  greater  measure  of  originality 
than  he  can  reasonably  claim.  ^lore  than  two  milleniiuns 
before  him.  Ph';to  conceived  an  ideal  Republic  in  which 
moral  laws,  as  commonly  accepted,  were  to  be  set  aside. 
Marriage  was  to  be  done  away  with:  births  were  to  be 
scientifically  regulated:  children  were  to  be  taken  from 
their  mothers;  sickly  infants  were  to  be  destroyed.  In 
Sparta  the  committee  of  the  elders  did  not  permit  the 
promptings  of  s^^npathy  and  the  cries  of  wounded  ma- 
ternal love  to  influence  the  decision  touching  the  life  or 
death  of  the  new-bom. 

Here  was  an  attempt  at  bridge-building,  but  it  was 
conceived  as  a  scientific  matter,  to  be  taken  in  hand 
by  the  State,  and  for  the  good  of  the  State.  But 
Nietzsche  would  destroy  the  State.  His  Superman 
appears  as  individualistic  as  a  "  rogue  "'  elephant,  a  few 
passages  to  the  contrary*  notwithstanding.  Are  we  to 
regard  him  as  a  mere  lawless  egoist,  or  as  something 
more?  We  are  left  in  the  dark.^^  But  we  note  that 
Nietzsche  disagrees  with  most  moralists,  in  that  he 
refuses  to  regard  Caesar  Borgia  as  a  morbid  growth. ^- 

"  See  the  volume.  Beyond  Good  and  Evil.  •  What  is  Noble?" 
§265. 

^2  Ihid„  The  S'atural  History  of  Morals,  §  197.  Dostoteff- 
SKt's  genius  has  portrayed   for  us  an  admirable   Superman   in 


Xi,; 

'..^■'.j-i 

:  I    :. : 

-tcry. 

-  -  - , 

.:-"'--. 

.'-  - '  - 

-  ^        -   - 

.  - ":  _- . 

'-  ^^  ^ 

p::- 

KANT.    HEGEL    AND    NIETZSCHE      285 

The  Superman  has  always  been  w::„  us,  in  so ::i^    ..:,•: 
varying  types.    Erom  Alexander  the  Great  to 
and  before  and  after,  he  adorns  t:.-r  t, ;.=;Ti 
Attila,  among  others,  may  enter  his  claim  tc 
tion.     It  remains  for  the  serious  stoden: 
estimate  scientifically  his  value  as  an  etL:  -. 
to  judge  how  far  this  type  of  character  mi,v 
be  taken  as  a  pattern. 

Nietzsche  stands  at  the  farthest  possible  remofve  from 
Hegel.  Does  he,  as  an  individualist,  stand  within  hail 
of  Kant?  It  scarcely  seems  so.  When  we  examine 
Kant's  "  practical  reason,"  in  other  words,  the  moral 
law  as  it  revealed  itself  to  Kant,  we  find  that  it  had  tiken 
up  into  itself  the  moral  development  of  the  ages  pre- 
ceding. Kant's  practical  reason,  his  conscience,  to  sp^^ 
plain  English,  was  not  the  practical  reason  of,  for  ex- 
ample, Aristotle.  The  latter  could  speak  of  a  slave  as 
an  "  animated  tool,"  and  could  believe  there  were  men 
intended  by  nature  for  slavery.  Kant  conld  not.  In 
theory  an  individualist,  the  Sage  of  Koni^beig  stands, 
in  reality,  not  far  from  HegeL  He  does  not  break  with 
the  past.     But  Xietzsche  is  revolt  incarnate. 


the  person  of  the  Bnssian  eanvict  Orlo5. 
Dead,  chapter  v. 


PART  VIII 
THE  ETHICS  OF  THE  SOCIAL  WILL 


CHAPTER   XXX 
ASPECTS  OF  THE  ETHICS  OF  REASON 

139.  The  Doctrine  Supported  by  the  Other  Schools.  — 
I  urge  the  more  confidently  the  Ethics  of  Reason,  or 
the  Ethics  of  the  Rational  Social  Will,  because  there 
is  so  little  in  it  that  is  really  new.  It  only  makes 
articulate  what  we  all  know  already,  and  strives  to  get 
rid  of  certain  exaggerations  into  which  many  men  who 
reason,  and  who  reason  well,  have  unwittingly  fallen. 

The  fundamentals  of  the  doctrine  have  been  exhibited 
in  Parts  V  and  VI  of  this  volume,  and  the  exaggerations 
alluded  to  have  been  treated  in  Part  VII.  Hence,  I 
may  speak  very  briefly  in  indicating  how  the  Ethics  of 
Reason  finds  a  many-sided  support  in  schools  which 
appear,  on  the  surface,  to  be  in  the  opposition. 

It  is  evident,  to  begin  with,  that  the  Ethics  of  the 
Social  Will  cannot  dispense  with  Moral  Intuitions,  but 
must  regard  them  as  indispensable;  as,  indeed,  the  very 
foundation  of  the  moral  life.  That  the  individual  may, 
and  if  he  is  properly  equipped  for  the  task,  ought,  to 
examine  critically  his  own  moral  intuitions  and  those  of 
the  community  in  which  he  finds  himself,  and  should, 
with  becoming  modesty  and  hesitation,  now  and  then 
suggest  an  innovation,  means  no  more  than  that  he  and 
the  community  are  not  dead,  but  are  living,  and  that 
progress  is  a  possibility,  at  least. 

289 


290       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

As  for  the  Egoist,  unless  he  is  an  absurd  extremist, 
we  must  admit  that  he  says  much  that  is  worth  listening 
to.  Was  not  Bentham  quite  right  in  maintaining  that 
if  all  A's  interests  were  committed  to  B,  and  all  B's  to 
A,  the  world  would  get  on  very  badly?  A  charity  that 
begins  at  the  planet  Mars  would  arrive  nowhere.  The 
Ethics  of  Reason  has  room  for  a  very  careful  considera- 
tion of  the  interests  of  the  self.  But  it  may  object  to 
the  position  that  the  moral  mathematician  may  regard 
as  the  only  important  number  the  number  One. 

With  the  Utilitarian  our  doctrine  need  have,  as  we 
have  seen,  no  quarrel.  Did  not  that  learned,  en- 
lightened, and  most  fair-minded  of  utilitarians,  Sidgwick, 
ultimately  resolve  the  happiness  which  men  seek  into 
anything  which  may  be  the  object  of  the  mind  in  willing? 
Did  not  a  critical  utilitarianism  resolve  itself  into  the 
doctrine  of  the  Rational  Social  Will?  Why  take  less 
critical  utilitarians  as  the  only  exponents  of  the  school? 
Besides,  is  there  any  reason  why  the  social  will  should 
be  blind  to  the  fact  that  men  generally  do  desire  to  gain 
pleasure  and  to  avoid  pain?  It  is  only  the  exaggeration 
of  this  truth  that  we  need  to  combat. 

To  Nature,  properly  understood,  we  can  enter  no 
objection.  Who  objects  to  Perfection  as  a  "  counsel  of 
perfection?  "  Can  the  Social  Will  object  to  a  man's 
striving  to  Realize  his  Capacities  —  under  proper  control, 
and  with  a  regard  to  others?  The  Pessimist  is  an  un- 
healthy  creature,  and  the  Social  Will  represents  normal 
and  healthy  humanity.  Here  we  have  disparity.  But 
to  Evolution  our  doctrine  offers  no  opposition.  It  is  only 
by  a  process  of  development  that  the  Actual  Social  Will 
has  come  to  be  what  it  is;  and  the  Rational  Social  Will 


ASPECTS    OF    ETHICS    OF    REASON        291 

looks  to  a  further  development  under  the  guidance  of 
reason. 

The  fact  is  that  thoughtful  men  belonging  to  different 
schools  tend  to  introduce  into  their  statement  of  their 
doctrines  modifying  clauses ;  and  in  the  end  we  find  them 
not  as  far  apart  as  they  seemed  at  the  beginning.  The 
tendency  is,  I  think,  in  the  direction  of  the  recognition 
of  the  Rational  Social  Will.  This  doctrine  belongs  to 
nobody  in  particular;  it  is  the  common  property  of  us 
all.     It  contains  little  that  is  startling. 

140.  Its  Method  of  Approach  to  Problems.  —  He  who 
looks  to  the  Rational  Social  Will  for  guidance  is  given 
a  compass  which  may  be  of  no  small  service  to  him. 
For  example: 

(1)  He  will  see  that  moral  phenomena  are  not  to  be 
isolated.  He  will  accept  the  historic  order  of  society 
and  judge  man  and  his  emotions  and  actions  in  the  light 
of  it.  He  will  never  feel  tempted  to  say,  with  Bentham, 
that  the  pleasure  which  has  its  roots  in  malice,  envy, 
cruelty,  "  taken  by  itself,  is  good."  ^ 

He  will  simply  say,  it  is  pleasure.  That  it  is,  of 
course;  but  he  will  maintain  that  nothing  "taken  by 
itself  "  is  either  good  or  bad,  from  the  moralist's  point 
of  view.  The  cruel  man  may  will  to  see  suffering,  and 
may  enjoy  it.  The  moral  man  may  hold  that  the  cruel 
man,  his  act  of  will,  and  his  pleasure,  should  all  be 
snuffed  out,  in  the  interest  of  humanity,  as  an  unmiti- 
gated evil. 

(2)  The  advocate  of  the  Rational  Social  Will  recog- 
nizes, as  do  many  adherents  of  other  schools,  that  the 
social  will,  as  expressed  at  any  given  time,  is  only  rel- 

1  Principles  oj  Morals  and  Legislation,  chapter  s,  §  10,  note. 


292      THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

atively  rational;  that  men  must  live  in  their  own  day 
and  generation,  although  they  can,  to  some  degree,  reach 
beyond  them;  and  that  some  differences  of  opinion  as  to 
the  relative  values  of  virtues,  and  the  goodness  of  char- 
acters, are  to  be  expected. 

(3)  Furthermore,  he  is  in  a  position  to  explain  how 
a  man  may  be  "  subjectively  "  right  and  yet  "object- 
ively "  wrong.  The  man's  character  may  be  such  that 
it  is,  on  the  whole,  to  be  approved  by  the  Rational  Social 
Will.  He  may  be  animated  by  the  desire  to  adjust  him- 
self to  that  will.  And  yet,  the  accident  of  ignorance, 
the  accident  of  prejudice  not  recognized  by  himself  as 
such,  may  lead  him  to  do  what  he  thinks  right  and  what 
those  more  enlightened  recognize  to  be  wrong. 

141.  Its  Solution  of  Certain  Difficulties.  —  Perhaps  it 
would  be  better  for  me  to  give  this  section  a  heading 
more  nearly  like  the  last.  I  aim  only  to  give  the  reader 
a  point  of  view  from  which  he  can  approach  the  problem 
of  a  solution. 

Take  the  problem  which  has  come  up  before  in 
the  form  of  the  distribution  of  pleasures.^  He  who 
dwells,  not  so  much  upon  pleasure,  as  upon  the  satis- 
faction of  desire  and  will,  must  state  it  differently,  but 
the  problem  is  much  the  same.  What  degree  of  recog- 
nition should  be  given  to  the  will  of  each  individual,  or 
to  the  separate  volitions  and  desires  in  the  life  of  the 
individual?  Should  everybody  count  for  one?  Should 
every  desire  or  group  of  desires  receive  recognition? 
Is  no  distinction  to  be  made  in  the  intensity  of  desires? 
And  how  many  individuals  shall  we  include  in  our 
reckoning? 

2  See  §  109. 


ASPECTS    OF    ETHICS    OF    REASON        293 

Light  seems  to  be  shed  upon  this  complicated  problem 
or  set  of  problems  when  we  hold  clearly  before  ourselves 
what  the  task  of  reason  is  in  regulating  the  life  of  man 
individually  and  collectively.  Its  function  is  to  bring 
order  out  of  chaos  and  strife;  to  substitute  harmony 
and  planfulness  for  accident;  to  introduce  long  views 
in  the  place  of  momentary  impulses;  to  prevent  the 
barter  of  permanent  good  for  a  mess  of  pottage. 

Reason  must  accept  the  impulses  and  instincts  of 
man  as  it  finds  them,  and  do  what  it  can  with  them.  It 
cannot  ignore  them.  Slowly,  civilizations,  to  some  de- 
gree rational,  have  come  into  being.  In  so  far  as  they 
are  rational,  they  are  justified.  Keeping  all  this  in  view 
we  may  say,  tentatively: 

(a)  The  principle,  "  everybody  to  count  for  one,  and 
nobody  for  more  than  one,"  must  be  interpreted  as  an 
expression  of  the  conviction  that  no  will  should  be 
needlessly  sacrificed. 

Reason  is  bodiless,  except  as  incorporated  in  human 
societies,  and  these  must  have  their  historic  development. 
Can  we  do  away  with  the  special  claims  of  family,  of 
neighborhood,  of  the  state?  They  have  their  place  in 
the  historic  rational  order.  But  the  whispered  "  every- 
body to  count  for  one  "  may  help  us  to  realize  that  such 
special  claims  cannot  take  the  place  of  all  others. 

(6)  Shall  a  deliberate  attempt  be  made  to  enlarge 
the  circle  of  those  who  are  to  share  in  the  social  will, 
not  merely  by  diminishing  the  number  of  deaths,  but 
by  promoting  the  number  of  births?  States  have  at- 
tempted it  often  enough.  I  can  only  say  that,  if  this 
be  attempted,  it  should  not  be  attempted  in  ways  that 
ignore  the  historical  development  of  society,  with  its 
social  and  moral  traditions. 


294.      THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

(c)  "Why  not  justify  our  attitude  toward  the  brutes 
by  maintaining  that  they  have,  theoretically,  rights  to 
recognition,  in  so  far  as  such  recognition  does  not  inter- 
fere with  the  rights  of  man  in  the  rational  social  order? 
The  brutes  outnumber  us,  to  be  sure.  We  are  in  a 
hopeless  minority.  But  were  this  minority  sacrificed, 
there  would  be  no  rational  social  order  at  all  —  no  right, 
no  wrong;  nothing  but  the  clash  of  wills  or  impulses 
which  reason  now  strives  to  harmonize  as  it  can/ 

(d)  When  we  turn  to  the  problem  of  the  distribution 
of  satisfactions  in  the  life  of  the  individual,  we  find 
ready  to  hand  a  variety  of  unwise  saws  —  "A  short  life 
and  a  merry  one,"  and  the  like. 

How  should  the  individual  choose  his  satisfactions? 
Merely  from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual?  What 
is  desirable?  Not  desired,  by  this  man  or  by  that,  but 
desirable,  reasonable? 

It  is  an  open  secret  that  the  house  of  mirth  lacks  every 
convenience  demanded  of  a  permanent  residence,  and 
that  those  who  breathlessly  pursue  pleasure  are  seldom 
pleased.  Nor  do  men,  when  they  stop  to  think,  want 
their  lives  to  be  very  short. 

And,  in  any  case,  this  question  of  the  distribution  of 
satisfactions  in  the  life  of  the  individual  does  not  concern 
the  individual  alone.  Is  the  man  who  wants  a  short  life 
and  a  merry  one  an  "  undesirable "  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  Rational  Social  Will?  Then  he  should  be 
suppressed.  The  manner  of  distribution  of  even  his  own 
personal  satisfactions  is  not  his  affair  exclusively.  Every 
ordered  society  has  its  notions  touching  the  type  of  man 
which  suits  its  ends. 

3  See  chapter  xxi,  §86. 


ASPECTS    OF    ETHICS    OF    REASON        295 

(e)  But  shall  we,  in  making  up  our  minds  about  the 
"  satisfaction  on  the  whole  "  which  busies  the  rational 
individual  or  the  rational  community,  take  no  account 
at  all  of  the  intensity  of  pleasures  and  of  pains,  the 
eagerness  with  which  some  things  are  desired  and  the 
feebleness  of  the  impulsion  toward  others?  May  not  the 
intense  thrill  of  a  moment  more  than  counterbalance 
"  four  lukewarm  hours?  "  Are  we  not,  if  we  take  such 
things  into  consideration,  back  again  face  to  face  with 
something  very  like  the  calculus  of  pleasures  —  that 
bugbear  of  the  egoist  and  of  the  utilitarian? 

It  would  be  foolish  to  maintain  that  man,  either  indi- 
vidually or  collectively,  places  all  desires  upon  the  same 
level.  No  man  of  sense  holds  that  every  desire  should 
count  as  one.  On  the  other  hand,  no  man  of  sense  pre- 
tends to  have  any  accurate  unit  of  measurement  by  which 
he  can  make  unerring  estimates  of  desirability. 

Fortunately,  he  is  not  compelled  to  fall  back  upon 
such  a  unit.  Even  if  he  was  born  yesterday,  the  race 
was  not.  He  is  born  into  a  system  of  A'alues  expressed 
in  social  organization  and  social  institutions.  It  is  the 
resultant  of  innumerable  expressions  of  preference  on  the 
part  of  innumerable  men.  It  is  a  general  guide  to  what, 
on  the  whole,  man  wants. 

It  is,  then,  foolish  for  him  to  raise  such  questions  as, 
whether  it  is  not  better  to  aim  at  intense  happiness  on 
the  part  of  the  few,  to  the  utter  ignoring  of  the  mass  of 
mankind.  Such  questions  the  Rational  Social  Will  has 
already  answered  in  the  negative. 

142.  The  Cultivation  of  our  Capacities.  —  Finally,  we 
may  approach  the  question  whether  it  is  reasonable  to 
awake  dormant  desires,  to  call  into  being  new  needs; 


296      THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

which,  satisfied,  may  be  recognized  as  a  good,  but  which, 
unsatisfied,  may  result  in  unhappiness.^ 

A  little  cup  may  be  filled  with  what  leaves  a  big  one 
half  empty.  It  is  easy  to  find  grounds  upon  which  to 
congratulate  the  "  average  "  man.  All  the  world  caters 
to  him  —  ready-made  clothing  is  measured  to  fit  his 
figure,  and  it  is  sold  cheap;  the  average  restaurant  con- 
sults his  taste  and  his  pocket;  the  average  woman  just 
suits  him  as  a  help-mate;  he  is  much  at  home  with  his 
neighbors,  most  of  whom  diverge  little  from  the  average. 
Why  strive  to  rise  above  the  average  —  and  fall  into  a 
divine  discontent? 

May  one  not  say  much  the  same  of  a  community? 
Why  should  it  strive  to  attain  to  new  conquests,  to 
awaken  in  its  members  new  wants  and  strain  to  satisfy 
them?  Does  it  seem  self-evident  that  it  is  reasonable, 
in  general,  to  multiply  desires  with  no  guarantee  of 
their  satisfaction? 

I  know  no  way  of  approaching  the  solution  of  this 
problem  save  from  the  standpoint  of  the  Rational  Social 
Will.  We  are  confronted  with  the  general  problem  of 
the  desirability  of  civilization,  with  all  that  that  implies. 
The  life  of  man  in  some  rather  primitive  societies  has 
seemed  in  certain  respects  rather  idyllic.  The  eating  of 
the  fruit  of  the  tree,  and  the  consequent  opening  of  the 
eyes,  has,  time  and  again,  seemed  to  result  in  disaster. 

But  was  the  idyllic  life  not  an  accidental  thing,  due 
to  a  fortuitous  combination  of  circumstances,  rather  than 
to  man's  intelligent  control  of  a  larger  environment? 
Civilization  of  some  sort  seems  inevitable.  Have  we 
any  other  guarantee  that  we  can  make  it,  in  the  long 

4  Compare  chapter  xxi,  §  86. 


ASPECTS    OF    ETHICS    OF    REASON        297 

run,  rational,  than  a  many-sided  development  of  man's 
capacities?  And  must  we  not  exercise  a  broad  faith  in 
the  value  of  enlightenment,  increase  of  knowledge,  far- 
sightedness, the  cultivation  of  complex  emotions,  even 
at  the  risk  of  some  waste  of  effort  and  some  suffering 
to  certain  individuals? 

Perhaps  this  is  as  good  a  place  as  any  to  say  a  word 
about  the  significance  of  the  terms  "  higher "  and 
''  lower,"  when  used  in  a  moral  sense.  We  have  seen 
that  John  Stuart  Mill  made  much  of  the  distinction  in 
his  utilitarianism.  Bentham  appears  to  sin  against  the 
enlightened  moral  judgment  in  holding  that,  quantities 
of  pleasure  being  the  same,  "  push-pin  is  as  good  as 
poetry." 

When  we  realize  that  the  worth  of  things  may  be 
determined  from  the  standpoint  of  the  Rational  Social 
Will,  we  can  easily  understand  that  some  occupations 
and  their  accompanying  pleasures  should  be  rated  higher 
than  others,  however  satisfactory  the  latter  may  seem 
to  certain  individuals.  It  is  not  unreasonable  to  rate 
the  pleasure  of  scientific  discovery  as  higher  than  the 
pleasure  of  swallowing  an  oyster;  and  that,  without 
following  Bentham  in  falling  back  upon  a  quantitative 
standard,  or  following  Mill  in  maintaining  that  pleasures, 
as  pleasures,  differ  in  kind.^ 

5  See  chapter  xxv,  §  107. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 
THE  MORAL  LAW  AND  MORAL  IDEALS 

143.  Duties  and  Virtues.  —  We  saw,  at  the  very  be- 
ginning of  this  volume/  that  a  single  moral  law,  so 
abstractly  stated  as  to  cover  the  whole  sphere  of  con- 
duct, must  be  something  so  vague  and  indeterminate  as 
to  be  practically  useless  as  a  guide  to  action.  The  ad- 
monition, "  do  right,"  does  not  mean  anything  in  par- 
ticular to  the  man  who  is  not  already  well  instructed  as 
to  what,  in  detail,  constitutes  right  action.  Nor  do  we 
make  ourselves  more  intelligible,  when  we  say  to  him 
"  be  good." 

It  seems  to  mean  something  more  when  we  say  "  act 
justly,"  or  "  be  just  ";  "  speak  the  truth,"  or  "  be  truth- 
ful." And  the  more  we  particularize,  the  more  we  help 
the  individual  confronted  with  concrete  problems  —  the 
only  problems  with  which  life  actually  confronts  us. 

This  is  as  it  should  be.  Duties  and  virtues  are  ex- 
pressions of  the  Rational  Social  Will,  and  that  will  is  a 
mere  abstraction  except  as  it  is  incorporated,  with  a 
wealth  of  detail,  in  human  societies.  It  would  be  hard 
for  the  small  boy  to  classify,  under  any  ten  command- 
ments, the  innumerable  company  of  the  "  don'ts  "  which 
he  hears  from  his  mother  during  the  course  of  a  week. 
He  can  leave  such  work  to  the  moralist.  But  he  is 
receiving  an  education  in  the  moral  law,  as  an  expression 
of  the  social  will,  through  the  whole  seven  days. 

1  Chapter  i,  §2. 
298 


MORAL    LAW    AND    IDEALS  299 

If  we  wish,  we  can  emphasize  the  moral  law,  and  dwell 
upon  the  duties  of  man.  On  the  other  hand,  we  may- 
lay  stress  upon  the  virtues,  and  point  to  ideals.  The 
Greek  made  much  of  the  virtues;  the  Christian  moralist 
had  more  to  say  of  man's  duties.  In  the  end,  there  need 
be  little  discrepancy  in  the  results.  I  make  the  same 
recommendation,  whether  I  say  to  a  man,  Speak  the 
truth!    or  whether  I  say  to  him,  Be  truthful! 

It  may  be  claimed  that  shades  of  difference  make 
themselves  apparent,  where  one  emphasizes  the  law  and 
another  points  to  an  ideal.  Perhaps  they  do,  in  most 
minds.  It  certainly  sounds  more  conceited  to  say:  "I 
am  trying  to  be  virtuous,"  than  to  say:  "  I  am  trying  to 
do  my  duty."  On  the  other  hand,  the  admonition,  "  Be 
truthful,"  appears  to  leave  one  a  little  latitude.  We 
take  the  truthful  man,  so  to  speak,  in  the  lump.  If  he 
has  a  strong  bias  toward  truth-speaking,  and  is  felt  to 
be  reliable,  on  the  whole,  it  is  not  certain  that  we  should 
rob  him  of  his  title  on  the  ground  of  one  or  two  lapses  for 
which  weighty  reasons  could  be  urged.  The  admonition: 
"Speak  the  truth!"  seems  more  uncompromising;  and 
yet  he  who  prefers  this  legal  form  may  maintain  that 
it  is  a  general  admonition  addressed  to  men  of  sense  who 
are  supposed  to  be  able  to  exercise  reason. 

144.  The  Negative  Aspect  of  the  Moral  Law.  —  Why 
does  the  jNIoral  Law,  on  the  surface  at  least,  appear  to 
be  so  largely  negative?  As  we  look  back  upon  our  early 
youth,  our  days  appear  to  be  punctuated  with  punish- 
ments. When  we  attain  to  years  of  discretion,  this  is 
not  the  case,  with  most  of  us,  at  least. 

But  when  we  turn  to  the  law,  in  our  own  society  or 
in  others,  we  find  prohibitions  and  penalties  everywhere. 


300       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

Of  rewards  little  is  said.  Is  the  social  will  meant  to  be 
chiefly  inhibitory?  Is  it  a  check  to  the  action  of  the 
individual? 

(1)  The  negative  aspect  of  the  moral  law  is,  to  a 
considerable  degree,  an  illusion.  The  social  will  takes 
us  up  into  itself  and  forms  us.  In  our  early  youth  we 
are  acutely  conscious  of  the  process.  A  vast  number 
of  the  things  a  boy  wants  to  do  are  things  that  do  not 
suit  the  social  will  at  all.  He  wants  to  break  windows; 
he  wants  to  fight  other  boys;  he  wants  to  be  idle;  his 
delight  is  in  adventures  not  normally  within  the  reach 
of,  or  suited  to  the  taste  of,  the  citizens  of  an  ordered 
state.  It  is  little  wonder  that  the  boy  regards  the  moral 
law  as  a  nuisance  and  the  state  as  a  suitable  refuge  for 
those  suffering  from  senile  decay. 

There  are  individuals  who  scarcely  get  beyond  this 
stage.  They  remain,  even  in  their  later  years,  at  war 
with  the  state.  From  time  to  time,  we  seize  them  and 
incarcerate  them.  That  the  law  forbids  and  punishes, 
they  never  forget.  It  is  chiefly  for  such  that  the  criminal 
law  exists.  They  are  in  the  state,  but  they  are  not  of  it. 
They  have  small  share  in  the  heritage  of  the  civilized 
man. 

For  most  of  us  there  comes  a  time  when  most  prohi- 
bitions are  little  thought  of.  It  has  been  maintained, 
that  the  law  is  negative  partly  for  the  reason  that  posi- 
tive duties  are  too  numerous  to  be  formulated.  But 
how  numerous  are  the  things  that  ought  not  to  be  done 
which  normal  men  never  think  of  doing!  At  this 
moment,  I  could  swallow  a  pen,  taste  the  ink  in  the 
ink-well,  throw  my  papers  from  the  window,  hurl  the 
porcelain  jar  on  the  chimney-piece  at  the  cat  next  door, 


lAIORAL    LAW    AND    IDEALS  301 

swing  on  the  chandelier.  I  am  conscious  of  no  con- 
straint in  not  doing  these  things.  Why?  I  have  become 
to  some  degree  adjusted  to  the  type  which  the  social  will 
strives  to  produce. 

(2)  And,  having  become  so  far  adjusted,  I  recognize 
that  the  social  will  is  distributing  rewards  most  lavishly. 
The  whole  organism  of  society  is  its  instrument.  Work 
is  found  for  me,  and  I  am  paid  for  it.  If  I  am  industri- 
ous and  dependable,  I  am  recompensed.  If  I  am  truth- 
ful, I  am  believed,  which  is  no  little  convenience.  If 
I  am  energetic  and  persevering,  I  may  grow  rich  or  be 
elected  to  office.  If  I  am  courteous,  I  am  liked  and  am 
treated  with  courtesy. 

Every  day  I  am  paid,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things, 
according  to  my  deserts.  Why  should  society  work 
out  an  extraordinary  system  of  rewards  for  those  whom 
it  is  already  rewarding  automatically? 

In  some  cases,  recourse  is  had  to  extraordinary  rewards. 
We  give  prizes  to  children  in  the  schools ;  we  give  medals 
to  soldiers  for  distinguished  service;  we  confer  honorary 
degrees  upon  men  for  a  variety  of  reasons.  In  mon- 
archical countries  and  in  their  colonies,  the  man  who 
earns  an  extraordinary  reward  may  even  pass  it  on,  in 
the  shape  of  a  title,  to  his  descendants,  as  though  it 
were  original  sin.  But  the  giving  of  extraordinary 
rewards  to  all  ordinary,  normal  persons  would  be  too 
much. 

The  man  who  markedly  offends  against  the  moral  law 
is  not  an  ordinary,  normal  person.  He  is  not  adjusted  to 
the  social  will.  It  is  natural  that  he  should  attract 
especial  attention.  Thus  the  "  Thou  shalt  not!  "  is  given 
prominence.    To  this  I  might  add,  that  punishments  are 


302       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

cheaper  and  easier  than  extraordinary  rewards.  Pains 
are  sharper  than  pleasures,  and  are  easily  inflicted. 

(3)  It  is  worthy  of  remark  that,  with  the  evolution 
of  morality,  it  tends  to  become  positive.  The  en- 
lightened moral  man  recognizes,  not  merely  the  actual 
social  will,  but  also  the  Rational  Social  Will.  He  may 
feel  it  his  duty  to  do  much  more  than  society  formally 
demands  of  him. 

145.  How  Can  One  Know  the  Moral  Law?  —  This 
question  has  already  been  answered  in  chapters  pre- 
ceding. Every  man  has  three  counsellors:  (1)  The 
"objective"  moralit}-  of  his  community  —  custom,  law, 
and  public  opinion,  which  certainly  deserve  to  be  taken 
very  seriously;  (2)  his  moral  intuitions,  which  may  be 
of  the  finest;  and  (3)  his  reason,  which  prevents  him 
from  making  decisions  without  reflection. 

Can  a  man  who  listens  to  these  three  counsellors  be 
sure  that  he  is  right  in  a  given  decision?  The  sooner  a 
man  learns  that  he  is  not  infallible  and  impeccable,  the 
better  it  will  be  for  him,  for  his  neighbor,  and  for  the 
world  at  large. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
THE  MORAL  CONCEPTS 

146.  Good  and  Bad;  Right  and  Wrong.  —  As  a  rule, 
men  reflect  little  touching  the  moral  terms  which  are  on 
their  lips  every  day.  It  is  well  worth  while  to  take  some 
of  them  up  and  to  turn  them  over  for  examination. 

We  may  use  the  terms  "  good  "  and  "  bad,"  "  right  " 
and  "  wrong,"  in  a  very  broad  sense.  A  "  good  "  trick 
may  be  a  contemptible  action;  the  "  right  "  way  to  crack 
a  bank-safe  may  be  the  means  to  the  successful  com- 
mission of  a  crime.  Evidently,  the  words,  thus  used, 
are  not  employed  in  a  moral  sense. 

When  we  pass  judgments  from  the  moral  point  of 
view,  we  concern  ourselves  with  men  and  with  their 
actions,  and  measure  them  by  the  standard  of  the  social 
will.  ]\Ien  and  actions  are  "  good,"  when  they  can  meet 
the  test.  Actions  are  "  right  "  or  "  wrong,"  when  they 
are  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  the  moral  law, 
or  are  at  variance  with  them.  That  an  act  may  be 
both  right  and  wrong,  when  viewed  from  different  stand- 
points, even  on  moral  ground,  we  have  seen  in  Chap- 
ter. XXX.  A  man  may  mean  to  do  right,  and  may, 
through  ignorance  or  error,  be  guilty  of  an  act  that  we 
condemn.  To  the  intelligent,  confusions  are  here  un- 
necessary. But  the  history  of  ethics  is  full  of  confusions 
in  just  this  field. 

147.  Duty  and  Obligation.  —  Verbal  usage  sometimes 

303 


304       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

justifies  the  use  of  one  of  these  words,  and  sometimes  that 
of  the  other.  We  say:  I  did  my  duty;  we  do  not  say:  I 
did  my  obligation.  But  this  is  a  mere  matter  of  verbal 
expression,  and  we  are  really  concerned  with  two  names 
for  the  same  thing. 

(1)  There  has  been  much  dispute  as  to  whether  the 
sense  of  duty  or  moral  obligation  can  or  cannot  be  an- 
alyzed. It  has  been  declared  unanalyzable  and  unique. 
Some  think  this  a  point  of  much  importance  which  im- 
parts a  peculiar  sacredness  to  the  sense  of  duty. 

There  appears  no  reason  why  this  position  should  be 
taken.  No  one  has  been  able  to  analyze  into  its  ultimate 
sensational  elements  the  peculiar  feeling  one  has  when 
one  is  tickled.  But  this  does  not  make  the  feeling  sacred 
or  awe-inspiring.  The  authority  of  the  sense  of  duty 
must  be  looked  for  in  another  direction  —  and  authority 
it  has. 

(2)  I  have  spoken  of  the  "  sense  "  of  duty.  We  all 
recognize  that,  when  we  are  faced  with  a  duty,  a  feeling 
is  normally  present.  But  the  whole  argument  of  this 
volume  has  maintained  that  man  is  not  to  be  treated 
only  as  the  subject  of  emotions.  He  is  a  rational  being. 
In  some  persons  feeling  is  very  prominent ;  in  others  it  is 
less  so.  It  is  quite  conceivable  that,  in  a  given  case,  a 
man  capable  of  reflection  should  recognize  that  he  is 
confronted  with  a  duty,  and  yet  that  he  should  feel  no 
impulse  to  perform  it.  Did  no  one  ever  feel  any  such 
impulse,  the  whole  system  of  duties,  the  whole  rational 
order  of  society  itself,  would  dissolve  and  disappear. 

Fortunately,  the  normal  man  does  feel  an  impulse  to 
perform  duties  recognized  as  such.  And  in  the  case  of 
those  exceptional  persons  who  do  not,  society  strives  to 


THE    MORAL    CONCEPTS  805 

supply  surrogates,  extraordinary  impulses  based  upon 
a  system  of  rewards  and  punishments.  This  is  a  mere 
supplement,  and  could  never  keep  alive  a  society  from 
which  the  sense  of  duty  had  disappeared. 

Duty  is  sacred.  It  is  the  very  foundation  of  every 
rational  society.  It  does  not  greatly  concern  ethics 
whether  the  impulse,  which  makes  itself  felt  in  men  who 
want  to  do  their  duty,  can  or  cannot  be  analyzed.  But 
it  is  all-important  that  they  should  feel  the  impulse. 

(3)  Can  a  man  do  more  than  his  duty  ?  Is  it  the  duty 
of  everyone  to  be,  not  merely  a  good,  average,  honest, 
faithful,  law-abiding  citizen,  but  to  go  far  beyond  this 
and  be  conspicuously  a  saint  ? 

It  should  be  remembered  that  we  are  concerned  wath 
the  connotation  properly  to  be  given  to  a  word  in  com- 
mon use. 

A  certain  amount  of  goodness  the  social  will  appears 
to  demand  of  men  rather  peremptorily.  Its  demands 
seem  to  vary  somewhat  with  the  exigencies  of  the  times 
—  for  example,  in  peace  and  in  war.  It  does  not  make 
the  same  demands  of  all  men.  From  those  to  whom 
much  has  been  given  —  wealth,  education,  social  or  po- 
litical influence,  —  much  is  required.  From  certain  per- 
sons it  appears  to  be  glad  to  get  anything.  If  they  keep 
out  of  the  police-court,  it  is  agreeably  surprised. 

I  have  no  desire  to  dissuade  anyone  from  the  arduous 
pursuit  of  sainthood;  but  I  submit  that  the  word  "  duty," 
as  sanctioned  by  usage,  implies  but  a  limited  demand, 
and  takes  cognizance  of  character  and  environment.  He 
who  comes  up  to  this  moderate  standard  is  not  con- 
demned; but  he  is  free  to  go  farther  and  to  become  as 
great  a  saint  as  he  pleases.    In  which  case,  we  admire  him. 


306       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

Those  who,  in  the  past,  have  spoken  of  "  counsels  of  per- 
fection," have  drawn  upon  a  profound  knowledge  of 
human  nature  and  of  human  societies. 

148.  Reward  and  Punishment.  —  We  saw  in  the  last 
chapter  (§  144)  that  it  is  something  of  a  criticism  upon 
man  and  upon  societies  of  men  that  extraordinary  re- 
wards have  to  be  given  and  that  punishments  must  be 
inflicted. 

More  attention  has  been  paid  to  punishments  than  to 
rewards,  and  the  question  touching  the  proper  aim  of 
punishment  in  a  civilized  state  has  received  much  dis- 
cussion. The  study  of  the  history  of  the  infliction  of 
punishment  is  suggestive,  but  it  does  not  shed  a  clear 
light.  The  social  will  has  not  always  been  a  rational 
social  will,  and  some  of  its  decisions  may  be  placed 
among  the  curiosities  of  literature.  Still,  they  may 
serve  the  purpose  of  the  traditional  "  terrible  example." 

Should  we,  in  punishing,  aim  at  the  prevention  of 
crime?  Are  punishments  to  be  "  deterrent  "  ?  Under 
this  head  we  must  consider,  not  merely  the  criminal 
himself,  but  also  those  who  are  in  more  or  less  danger 
of  becoming  criminals,  though  they  have,  as  yet,  com- 
mitted no  known  crime. 

Should  the  aim  of  punishment  be  the  reformation  of 
the  criminal? 

Should  we  punish  merely  that  "  justice  "  be  done?  He 
who  steals  and  eats  fruit  is  visited  with  punishment,  in 
the  course  of  nature,  if  the  fruit  is  unripe.  But  he  suf- 
fers equally  if  he  eats  his  own  fruit,  under  like  conditions. 
This  seems  a  blind  punishment.  Should  we  visit  pain 
upon  him  for  the  theft,  merely  because  it  is  a  theft,  and 
without  looking  abroad  for  any  other  reason? 


THE    MORAL    CONCEPTS  307 

Light  appears  to  be  thrown  upon  these  problems  when 
we  reflect  that  punishment  is  an  instrument,  employed 
by  the  Rational  Social  Will,  in  pursuance  of  its  ends. 

(1)  It  is  desirable  that  men  should  be  deterred  from 
committing  crime.  If  this  cannot  be  done  save  by  the 
infliction  of  punishment,  then  let  men  be  punished.  But 
be  it  remembered  that  punishment  is  a  regrettable 
necessity,  and  that  the  occasions  for  the  infliction  of 
penalties  may  greatly  be  diminished  by  the  amelioration 
of  the  organism  of  society.  There  is  the  born  criminal, 
as  there  is  the  born  inmate  of  an  asylum  for  the  insane. 
But  there  is  also  the  manufactured  criminal ;  the  product 
of  the  slum,  the  victim  of  ignorance,  the  prey  of  the 
walking-delegate,  the  sufferer  from  over-work  and  under- 
nourishment, the  inhabitant  of  the  filthy  and  over- 
crov/ded  tenement,  the  man  robbed  of  his  self-respect, 
who  has  no  share  in  the  sweetness  and  light  of  civili- 
zation. A  society  that  first  manufactures  criminals  and 
then  expends  great  sums  in  punishing  them  is,  in  so  far, 
not  rational. 

(2)  It  is  desirable  that  the  criminal  should  be  re- 
formed and  returned  to  society  as  a  normal  man.  But 
this  is  not  the  one  and  only  aim  of  the  social  will.  The 
whole  flock  should  not  be  sacrificed  to  the  one  black 
sheep,  as  some  sentimental  persons  appear  to  believe. 
There  is  room  here  for  the  exercise  of  judgment  and  of 
some  cool  calculation. 

(3)  As  for  the  demand  that  a  given  pain  shall  be 
inflicted  for  a  given  wrong  done,  irrespective  of  any  gain 
to  anybody,  and  irrespective  of  consequences.  —  it  ap- 
pears to  carry  one  back  to  ancient  and  primitive  law. 

Undoubtedly  many  punishments  have  been  inflicted  in 


308       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

the  past  to  satisfy  the  sense  of  resentment.^  Undoubt- 
edly the  same  is  true  of  the  present.  Can  anything  be 
said  in  favor  of  this  impulse?  It  plays  no  small  part 
in  the  life  of  humanity. 

We  feel  that  a  bad  man  ought  to  be  punished.  We 
harbor  a  certain  resentment  against  him.  The  resent- 
ment of  the  individual  for  personal  injuries  we  recog- 
nize to  be  wrong.  It  is  not  impartial,  and  it  is  apt  to 
be  excessive  and  unreasoning.  Public  order  demands 
that  it  be  refused  expression. 

But  is  the  —  we  must  admit,  somewhat  more  disin- 
terested —  resentment  of  the  community  a  rational 
thing?  Have  men,  collectively,  no  whims,  no  preju- 
dices? When  a  trial  is  deferred,  and  public  indignation 
has  cooled  off,  how  do  the  chances  of  the  prisoner  com- 
pare with  those  he  enjoyed  just  after  the  commission  of 
the  crime?  And  yet  something  may  be  said  for  public 
resentment.  It  has  a  certain  driving-power.  It  may  be 
questioned  whether  either  our  desire  to  deter  men  from 
crime,  or  our  benevolent  interest  in  the  criminal,  would 
be  quite  sufficient  to  enforce  law,  if  all  sense  of  resent- 
ment against  the  law-breaker  were  lacking.  Its  useful- 
ness as  an  instrument  of  the  social  will  appears  to  give 
it  a  certain  justification.  But  it  also  suggests  that  even 
public  resentment  sliould  not  be  given  free  rein. 

1  It  may  be  objected  that  we  are  not  concerned  here  with 
resentment  but  with  the  satisfaction  of  "  justice."  Men's  no- 
tions of  the  "  justice  "  of  punishments  have  been  touched  upon 
in  chapter  ii,  §4.  Plato  suggests,  in  his  Laws,  that  the  slave 
who  steals  a  bunch  of  grapes  should  receive  a  blow  for  every 
grape  in  the  bunch.  This  has  an  agreeably  mathematical  flavor 
of  exactitude.  But  what  shall  be  done  to  the  man  who  steals 
half  of  a  ham  or  a  third  of  a  watermelon? 


THE    MORAL    CONCEPTS  309 

Before  leaving  the  subject  of  reward  and  punishment, 
it  may  be  well  to  say  a  word  touching  our  use  of  the 
terms  credit  and  discredit,  merit  and  demerit. 

We  do  not  give  a  man  credit  for  an  action,  we  do  not 
think  of  him  as  meritorious,  merely  because  he  has  done 
right.  Who  thinks  of  praising  the  young  mother  for 
feeding  and  washing  her  first-born?  Who  shakes  the 
hand  of  the  Sunday-school  teacher  and  congratulates  him 
upon  having  stolen  nothing  for  a  week?  But  the  waif 
from  the  gutter  who  wanders  through  a  department-store 
and  resolutely  takes  nothing,  emerging  exhausted  with 
the  struggle,  we  slap  upon  the  back  and  call  a  little  man. 

Our  notions  of  credit  and  merit  are  bound  up  with  our 
notions  of  extraordinary  rewards.  The  creditable  action, 
the  meritorious  man,  have  a  certain  claim  upon  us,  if 
only  the  claim  of  special  recognition.  Any  man  who 
makes  a  notable  step  forward  deserves  credit,  whatever 
his  actual  position  upon  the  moral  scale.  He  who  only 
"  marks  time  "  upon  a  relatively  high  level  may  be  a 
good  man,  but  we  do  not  give  him  credit  for  the  act 
normally  to  be  expected  of  him.  The  recognition  of 
merit  is  a  part  of  the  machinery  of  moralization. 

149.  Virtues  and  Vices.  —  One  swallow,  said  Aristotle, 
does  not  make  a  spring,  nor  does  one  happy  day  make  a 
happy  life.  Elsewhere  he  draws  our  attention  to  the 
fact  that  one  good  action  does  not  con.stitute  a  virtue. 

We  may  define  the  virtues  as  those  relatively  perma- 
nent qualities  of  character  which  it  is  desirable,  from 
the  moral  point  of  view,  that  a  man  should  have.  The 
vices  are  the  corresponding  defects.  I  shall  not  attempt 
to  draw  up  a  list  of  the  virtues.  For  a  variety  of  lists, 
exhibiting  curious  and  interesting  diversities,  I  refer  the 
reader  back  to  Chapter  III,  §§  9-11. 


310       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

The  Rational  Social  Will  aims  to  build  up  a  social 
order  which  shall  do  justice  to  the  fundamental  impulses 
and  desires  of  man,  a  social  and  rational  creature.  The 
stones  which  it  must  build  into  its  edifice  are  human 
beings.  If  the  human  beings  are  mere  lumps  of  soft 
clay,  incapable  of  holding  their  shape  or  of  bearing  any 
weight,  the  walls  cannot  rise.  And  a  human  being  may 
be  satisfactory  in  one  respect,  and  far  from  satisfactory 
in  another.  No  one  of  us  is  wholly  ignorant  of  the 
qualities  desirable  in  our  building-material.  Custom, 
law  and  public  opinion  are  there  to  indicate  what  quali- 
ties have,  in  fact,  proved,  on  the  whole,  not  detrimental. 
Our  intuitions  help  us  in  forming  a  judgment.  Rational 
reflection  is  of  service. 

But  one  thing  is  very  evident.  Nowhere  is  it  made 
clearer  than  in  the  study  of  the  virtues  and  vices,  that 
the  moralist  cannot  consider  the  phenomena,  with  which 
he  occupies  himself,  in  a  state  of  isolation. 

Is  courage  a  virtue?  Is,  then,  the  man  who  is  willing 
to  take  the  risk  of  breaking  a  bank,  or  holding  up  a 
stage-coach, in  so  far  virtuous?  Is  perseverance  a  virtue? 
Is,  then,  the  woman,  who  holds  out  to  the  bitter  end  in 
her  desire  to  have  the  last  word,  in  so  far  virtuous?  Is 
justice  a  virtue?  Then  why  not  be  virtuous  in  demand- 
ing the  pound  of  flesh,  if  it  is  the  law  —  as  it  once  was? 

Certain  equalities  of  character  have  been  recognized  as, 
on  the  ivhole,  and  generally,  serviceable  to  the  social 
will.  But  a  man  is  not  a  quality  of  character,  and  quali- 
ties of  character  are  sometimes  gathered  into  strange 
bundles.  It  is  of  men  that  the  state  is  composed;  of 
tliinking,  feeling  men.  We  cannot  isolate  qualities  of 
character,  and  assess  their  value  in  their  isolation. 


THE    MORAL    CONCEPTS  311 

150.  Conscience.  —  We  are  all  forced  to  recognize  that 
conscience  has  its  dual  aspect.  It  is  characterized  by 
jeeling;  and  the  feeling  is  seldom  blind,  or,  at  least, 
wholly  blind;  conscience  implies  a  judgment  that  some- 
thmg  is  right  or  wrong. 

(1)  The  feeling  is,  to  be  sure,  very  often  in  the  fore- 
ground. Those  who  say,  "  My  conscience  tells  me  that 
this  is  wrong,"  often  mean  little  more  than,  "  I  feel  that 
it  is  wrong." 

But  the  word  "  feeling  "  is  an  ambiguous  one.  It  is 
used  to  cover  all  sorts  of  intuitive  judgments  as  well  as 
mere  emotions.  The  man  who  takes  the  time  to  reflect 
upon  his  feeling  of  the  rightness  or  wrongness  of  an  action 
can  often  discover  some,  perhaps  rather  vague,  reason 
for  his  feeling  proper. 

(2)  In  other  words,  he  may  come  upon  an  intuitive 
judgment.  And  the  thoughtful  man  who  talks  about 
his  conscience  is  rarely  satisfied  with  a  blind  intuition; 
he  wants  to  be  sure  he  is  right,  and  he  thinks  the  whole 
matter  over. 

(3)  The  feeling  and  the  judgment  are  not  necessarily 
in  accord.  The  feeling  may  lag  behind  an  enlightened 
judgment.  On  the  other  hand,  the  feeling  of  repugnance 
to  acting  in  certain  ways  may  be  a  justifiable  protest 
against  a  bit  of  intellectual  sophistry. 

(4)  So  much  ought  to  be  admitted  by  everyone  who 
holds  that  conscience  may  be  blunted  or  may  be  en- 
lightened. Consciences  vary  indefinitely.  Some  we  set 
down  as  hopelessly  below  the  average;  others  we 
reverence  as  refined  and  enlightened.  The  social  worker 
makes  it  his  aim  to  "  awaken  "  conscience,  to  cultivate 
it,  to  bring  it  up  to  a  high  standard.    No  practical  moral- 


312       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

ist  regards  the  conscience  of  the  individual  as  something 
which  must  simply  be  left  to  itself  and  treated  as  sacred, 
no»matter  what  its  character. 

(5)  The  above  sufficiently  explains  some  of  the  puzzles 
which  confront  the  man  who  reverences  conscience  and 
yet  studies  the  consciences  of  his  fellow-men.  He  finds 
that  the  individual  conscience  is  not  an  infallible  guide- 
post  pointing  to  right  action;  that  it  is  not  a  perfect 
time-keeper,  in  complete  accord  with  the  watches  of  other 
men. 

"  It's  a  turrible  thing  to  have  killed  the  wrong  man," 
said  the  conscience-stricken  illicit  distiller  in  his  moun- 
tain fastness.  "  I  never  seen  good  come  o'  goodness  yet; 
him  as  strikes  first  is  my  fancy,"  said  the  dying 
pirate  in  "  Treasure  Island."  Augustine,  passing  over 
much  worse  offences,  exhausts  himself  in  agonies  of  re- 
morse over  a  boyish  prank. ^  Seneca  draws  up  a  list  of 
the  most  horrifying  crimes,  and  decides  that  ingratitude 
exceeds  them  all  in  enormity.^ 

(6)  It  appears  to  be  quite  evident  that  consciences 
ought  to  be  standardized,  and  that  the  standard  should 
be  made  a  high  one.  The  true  standard  is  the  one  set 
by  the  Rational  Social  Will.  It  is  as  much  a  duty  to 
have  a  good  conscience  as  it  is  to  obey  the  conscience 
one  has. 

2  See  chapter  xx,  §  78.  »  Qn  Benefits,  i,  10. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    INDIVIDUAL 

151.  What  is  Meant  by  the  Term?  —  Men  collected 
into  groups  and  organized  in  various  ways  we  call  states, 
and  we  treat  a  state  as  a  unit.  We  look  upon  it  as  hav- 
ing rights  and  as  owing  duties  both  to  individuals  and  to 
other  states.  There  are  individuals  whom  we  are  apt  to 
regard  as  representatives  of  the  state;  as  instruments, 
rather  than  as  men  —  executive  officers,  legislators, 
official  interpreters  of  its  laws,  whether  good  or  bad. 
For  states  and  their  representatives  we  often  have 
especial  moral  standards,  differing  more  or  less  from 
those  by  which  we  judge  human  beings  merely  as  human 
beings.  It  is  with  the  morality  of  the  latter  that  I  am 
here  concerned. 

To  be  sure,  all  human  beings  are  to  be  found  in  states, 
or  in  that  rudimentary  social  something  which  fore- 
shadows the  state.  To  talk  of  the  morality  of  the  iso- 
lated individual  is  nonsense.  Morality  is  the  expression 
of  the  social  will;  and  if  we  think  of  even  Robinson 
Crusoe  as  a  good  man,  it  means  that  we  apply  to  him 
social  standards.  Had  he  not  been  moralized,  he  would 
have  killed  and  eaten  Friday,  when  the  latter  made  his 
appearance. 

We  must,  then,  take  the  individual  as  we  find  him  in 
the  state,  but  it  is  convenient  to  consider  his  morality 
separately  from  the  ethics  of  the  state,  its  institutions 
and  its  instruments. 

313 


314       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

152.  The  Virtues  of  the  Individual.  —  What  moral 
traits  have  we  a  right  to  look  for  in  the  individual  man? 
What  sort  of  a  man  is  it  his  duty  to  be? 

Evidently,  men's  duties  must  vary  somewhat  according 
to  the  type  of  the  society  to  which  they  belong,  and  to 
their  definite  place  in  that  society.  Still,  certain  general 
desirable  traits  of  character  unavoidably  suggest  them- 
selves. To  attempt  a  complete  list  seems  futile,  but 
the  most  salient  have  been  dwelt  upon  by  the  moralists 
of  many  schools,  and  for  centuries  past. 

Does  it  not  appear  self-evident  that  a  man  should  be 
law-abiding,  honest,  industrious,  truthful,  and  capable 
of  unselfishness?  Should  he  not  have  a  regard  for  his 
health  and  efficiency?  Should  he  not  aim  to  develop 
his  capacities,  and  in  so  far  to  diminish  the  dead  mass  of 
ignorance  and  bad  taste  which  weighs  down  society? 

Of  marital  fidelity,  with  all  that  that  implies  —  per- 
sonal purity,  the  good  of  one's  children,  a  fine  sense  of 
loyalty  —  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  speak.  No  man, 
betrothed  or  married,  can  be  sure  that  he  will  not  meet 
tomorrow  some  woman  whom  the  unprejudiced  would 
judge  to  be  more  attractive  than  the  one  to  whom  he 
has  bound  himself.  Shall  he  remain  unprejudiced  —  a 
floating  mine,  ready  to  explode  at  any  accidental  con- 
tact? Away  with  him!  He  has,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
scientific  moralist,  "  too  much  ego  in  his  cosmos." 
Those  babble  of  "  affinities  "  who  know  little,  and  care 
less,  about  the  long  and  arduous  ascent  up  which  man- 
kind has  toiled,  in  the  effort  to  attain  to  civilization. 

And  what  shall  we  say  of  such  things  as  religious 
duties,  of  cheerfulness,  of  good  manners,  of  personal 
cleanliness?     Of  religious  duties  I  shall  speak  elsewhere.^ 

1  Chapter   xxxvi. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    INDIVIDUAL     315 

As  to  cheerfulness  and  good  manners,  it  is  only  neces- 
sary to  reflect  upon  the  baleful  influence  exercised  upon 
the  young  —  who  have  here  my  entire  sympathy  —  by  a 
bilious  and  depressing  piety,  or  by  those  who  are  rudely 
and  superciliously  moral. 

Cleanliness  deserves  some  special  attention,  on  ac- 
count of  the  fact  that  it  has  perplexed  even  thoughtful 
scholars  to  discover  why  society  has  come  to  regard  it 
as  a  duty  at  all.^  That,  if  society  does  regard  cleanli- 
ness as  important,  it  should  be  the  duty  of  the  individual 
to  keep  himself  and  his  house  clean  presents  no  problem. 
He  has  no  right  to  make  himself  gratuitously  offensive, 
and  gratuitously  offensive  he  will  be,  if  he  is  a  dirty 
fellow.  But  why  does  anyone  object  to  his  being  a 
dirty  fellow?  The  prejudice  in  favor  of  cleanliness  does 
not  appear  to  be  universal  —  witness  the  Eskimo  and 
various  other  peoples. 

We  have  learned  that  the  social  will  has  its  foundation 
in  the  fundamental  impulses  and  instincts  of  man. 
An  admirable  scholar  has  suggested  that  the  ultimate 
root  of  the  regard  for  cleanliness  which  more  or  less 
characterizes  civilized  societies  may  be  traced  to  some 
such  primitive  and  inexplicable  impulse  to  cleanlmess  as 
we  observe,  for  example,  in  the  cat.^  It  must  be  admitted 
that  it  is  far  more  marked  in  the  cat  than  in  the  human 
being.  A  kitten  is  much  more  fastidious  than  is  a  baby, 
and  a  grown  cat  would  tolerate  no  powder  or  rouge. 

But,  assuming  that  such  an  instinct  exists,  even  in 
weak  measure,  it  might  easity  develop  with  the  develop-* 

2  The  chapter  on  cleanliness  by  Epictetus  is  a  homily,  and 
not  a  philosophic  argument.    See,  Discourses,  Book  IV,  chapter  xi. 

3  Westermarck,  Origin  and  Development  of  the  Moral  Ideas, 
chapter  xxxix. 


316       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

ment  of  society.  And,  as  man  is  a  rational  being,  capa- 
ble of  discovering  a  connection  between  cleanliness  and 
hygiene,  the  duty  of  cleanliness  would  acquire  a  new 
authority.  Dirt  becomes  no  longer  merely  distasteful; 
it  is  recognized  as  a  danger. 

153.  Conventional  Morality.  —  There  are  virtues  — 
taking  the  traits  of  character  indicated  by  the  names 
broadly  and  loosely,  and  making  allowance  for  all  sorts 
of  variations  within  wide  limits  —  which  appear  to  be 
recognized  as  such  very  generally.  Bishop  Butler  re- 
garded justice,  veracity  and  regard  to  common  good  as 
valued  in  all  societies.  Certainly  they  have  served  as 
expressions  of  the  social  will  in  many  societies,  ancient 
and  modern,  primitive  and  highly  civilized. 

We  have  seen  that  the  forms  under  which  they  appear 
are  not  independent  of  the  degree  and  kind  of  the 
development  of  the  society  we  may  happen  to  be  con- 
templating.* And  we  have  realized  that  man  is  born 
into  a  world  of  ready-made  duties  which  are  literally 
forced  upon  his  attention.  He  finds  himself  a  member 
of  a  family,  somebody's  neighbor,  a  resident  in  a  town 
or  village,  allotted  to  a  social  class,  an  employer  or 
an  employee,  a  citizen  of  a  state.  Justice,  veracity  and 
a  regard  for  common  good  appear  to  have  their  value  in 
all  these  relations ;  but  the  manner  of  their  interpretation 
is  not  independent  of  the  relations,  and  the  relations  with 
their  appropriate  demands  are  relatively  independent 
of  the  individual  will.  One  cannot  ignore  these  demands 
and  fall  back,  independently,  upon  metaphysical  theory. 
Aristotle's  claim  that  a  man  cannot  be  unjust  to  his  own 
child,  because  the  child  is  a  part  of  himself,  and  a  man 

*  See  chapter  ii. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    INDIVIDUAL     317 

cannot  be  unjust  to  himself,''  excites  our  curiosity.     It 
does  not  elicit  our  approval. 

It  is  because  the  vast  majority  of  our  duties  are  so  un- 
equivocally thrust  upon  us  that  I  have  been  able  to 
touch  so  lightly,  in  the  last  section,  upon  the  duties  of 
the  individual.  Why  dilate  upon  what  everybodj^  knows? 
Is  it  not  enough  to  set  him  thinking  about  it? 

And,  in  helping  him  to  think,  the  reference  to  the 
virtue  of  cleanliness  has  its  value.  Cleanliness  is  prized 
by  those  who  know  little  of  hygiene.  If  a  society  cannot 
be  happy  without  cleanliness,  for  whatever  reason,  is  it 
not  the  duty  of  the  individual  to  be  clean?  But  how 
clean  should  he  be? 

There  are  virtues  —  I  use  the  word  here  broadly  to 
cover  approved  habits  —  which  seem  to  have  a  very 
direct  reference  to  chronology  and  geography.  They 
are  conventional  virtues;  they  suit  a  given  society,  and 
satisfy  its  actual  social  will.  A  Vermont  housekeeper 
in  an  igloo  would  be  an  intolerable  nuisance.  Imagine 
an  unbroken  succession  of  New  England  house-cleanings 
with  the  inhabitants  of  the  house  sitting  in  despair  in 
the  snow  outside. 

Those  who  live  north  of  the  Alps  are  sometimes  criti- 
cized for  dipping  Zwieback  into  their  tea.  Those  who 
live  south  of  the  Alps  eat  macaroni  in  ways  revolting 
to  other  nations.  A  very  pretty  Frenchwoman,  devour- 
ing snails  after  the  approved  fashion  of  the  locality,  has 
driven  me  out  of  an  excellent  restaurant.  And  the  w'orld 
opens  its  eyes  in  wonder  when  it  sees  the  well-bred  Anglo- 
Saxon  dispose  of  his  asparagus. 

There  is  a  little-recognized  virtue  called  toleration. 
^  Ethics,  Book  V,  chapter  vi,  §  7. 


318       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

St.  Ambrose  was  a  wise  man  when  he  advised  St. 
Augustine  to  do,  when  in  Rome,  as  the  Romans  do. 
Of  course,  he  did  not  mean  this  to  apply  to  robbery  or 
to  murder.  He  was  giving  an  involuntary  recognition  to 
the  doctrine  that  there  are  conventional  virtues,  worthy 
of  our  notice,  as  well  as  virtues  of  heavier  caliber  and 
wider  range. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 
THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    STATE 

154.  The  Aim  of  the  State.  —  He  who  has  resolved  to 
devote  but  a  single  chapter  to  the  Ethics  of  the  State 
must  deliberately  sacrifice  nine-tenths,  at  least,  of  the 
material  —  some  of  it  very  good  material,  and  some  of 
it  most  curious  and  interesting  —  which  has  heaped 
itself  together  on  his  hands  in  the  course  of  his  reading 
and  thinking.  I  have  resolved  to  write  only  the  one 
chapter.  The  State  is  the  background  of  the  individual, 
the  scaffold  which  supports  his  moral  life.  Without  it, 
he  may  be  a  being;  but  he  is  scarcely  recognizable  as  a 
human  being.  It  has  made  the  individual  what  he  is, 
and  it  is  the  medium  in  which  he  can  give  expression  to 
the  nature  which  he  now  possesses. 

Plato  maintains  that  the  object  of  the  constitution 
of  the  state  is  the  happiness  of  the  whole,  not  of  any 
part.^  Aristotle,  in  his  "  Politics,"  maintains  that  it  is 
the  aim  of  the  state  to  enable  men  to  live  well.  Sidgwick 
defines  politics  as  "  the  theory  of  what  ought  to  be  (in 
human  affairs)  as  far  as  this  depends  on  the  common 
action  of  societies  of  men."  -  We  may  agree  with  all 
three,  and  yet  leave  ourselves  much  latitude  in  determin- 
ing the  nature  of  the  organization  of,  and  the  limits 
properly  to  be  set  to  the  activities  of,  the  State  as  such. 

1  Repxihlic,  II.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  both  Plato  and 
Aristotle  had  the  Greek  prejudice  touching  citizenship.  Their 
"  citizenship  "  was  enjoyed  by  a  strictly  limited  class. 

2  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  chapter  ii. 

319 


320       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

Shall  the  State  only  strive  to  repress  grave  disorders?  or 
shall  it  take  a  paternal  interest  in  its  citizens,  making 
them  virtuous  and  happy  in  spite  of  themselves? 

155.  Its  Origin  and  Authority.  —  In  Parts  III  to  VI 
we  have  seen  how  and  upon  what  basis  the  State  has 
grown  up.  It  is  an  organism,  something  that  lives  and 
grows.  It  is  not  a  machine,  deliberately  put  together 
at  a  definite  time  by  some  man  or  some  group  of  men. 
The  "  social  contract  "  fanatic  may  have  read  history, 
but  he  has  not  understood  it.  Of  psychology  he  has  no 
comprehension  at  all. 

Herodotus,  at  some  of  whose  stories  we  smile,  was  a 
wiser  man.  He  writes:  "  It  appears  certain  to  me, 
by  a  great  variety  of  proofs,  that  Cambj^ses  was  raving 
mad ;  he  would  not  else  have  set  himself  to  make  a  mock 
of  holy  rites  and  long-established  usages.  For  if  one 
were  to  offer  men  to  choose  out  of  all  the  customs  in 
the  world  such  as  seemed  to  them  the  best,  they  would 
examine  the  whole  number,  and  end  by  preferring  their 
own;  so  convinced  are  they  tliat  their  own  usages  far 
surpass  those  of  all  others.  "  ^ 

This  may  be  something  of  an  over-statement,  for  men 
in  one  state  have  shown  themselves  to  be,  within  limits, 
capable  of  learning  from  men  in  another.  But  only 
within  limits.  Those  things  which  give  a  state  sta- 
bility —  and  without  stability  we  are  tossed  upon  the 
waves  of  mere  anarchy  —  have  their  roots  in  the  remote 
past.  Strip  a  man  of  his  past,  and  he  is  little  better 
than  an  idiot;  strip  men  within  the  State  of  their  corpo- 
rate institutions  and  ideals,  of  their  loyalties  and  emo- 

3  The  History  of  Herodotus,  Book  III.  chapter  xxxviii,  trans- 
lated by  George  Rawlinson,  London,  1910. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    STATE        321 

tional  leanings,  and  we  have  on  our  hands  a  mob  of 
savages,  something  much  below  the  tribe  proper,  knit 
into  unity  of  purpose  by  custom  and  tribal  law. 

The  State  has  its  origin  in  man  as  a  creature  desiring 
and  willing,  and  at  the  same  time  endowed  with  reason. 
Its  authority  is  the  authority  of  reason.  Kot  reason 
in  the  abstract,  with  no  ground  to  stand  upon,  and  no 
material  for  its  exercise;  but  reason  as  incorporate  in 
institutions  and  social  usages ;  reason  which  takes  cogni- 
zance of  the  nature  of  man,  and  recognizes  what  man 
has  already  succeeded  in  doing. 

Where  shall  we  look  for  a  limit  to  the  authority  of 
the  State?  Surely,  only  in  the  Reason  which  makes  it 
possible  for  the  State  to  be.  The  State  must  not  defeat 
its  own  object. 

156.  Forms  of  Organization.  —  The  special  science  of 
politics  enters  in  detail  into  the  forms  of  organization 
of  the  State.  The  ethical  philosopher  must  content  him- 
self with  certain  general  reflections.  Everyone  knows 
that  States  have  been  organized  in  divers  ways ;  and  that 
their  citizens,  under  much  the  same  form  of  political 
organization,  have  been  here  happy  and  contented,  and 
there  in  a  state  of  ferment.  The  form  of  government 
counts  for  something;  but  its  suitability  to  the  popula- 
tion governed,  and  the  degree  of  enlightenment  and 
discipline  characteristic  of  the  population,  count  for  much 
more.  It  is  not  every  shoe  that  fits  every  foot,  and 
there  are  feet  that  are  little  at  home  in  shoes  of  any 
description. 

Monarchies  of  many  sorts,  aristocracies,  oligarchies, 
democracies,  even  communisms,  have  been  tried;  and 
all,  save  the  last,  have  managed  to  hold  their,  own  with 
some  degree  of  success. 


322       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

It  is  easy  to  bring  objections  against  each  form  of 
government,  just  as  it  is  easy  to  say  something  specious 
in  its  favor. 

Are  the  eldest  sons  of  a  few  families  peculiarly  fitted 
by  nature  to  be  governors  of  the  State?  Look  at  history, 
and  wake  up  to  common  sense.  Of  the  divine  right  of 
kings  I  shall  not  speak,  for  the  adherents  of  the  doctrine 
are  in  our  day  relegated  to  museums  of  antiquities.  And 
have  the  members  of  aristocracies  been  carefully  bred 
with  a  view  to  their  intellectual  and  moral  superiority, 
as  we  breed  fine  varieties  of  horses  and  dogs?  Have 
those  who  have  had  their  share  in  oligarchies  been  pe- 
culiarly wise  and  peculiarly  devoted  to  the  common 
good?  The  communist  makes  two  fatal  mistakes.  He 
shuts  his  eyes  to  history,  and  he  overlooks  the  fact  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  human  nature. 

There  remains  democracy.  Of  this,  Herodotus,  already 
quoted  as  a  man  of  sense,  has  his  opinion.  He  makes  a 
shrewd  Persian,  in  a  political  crisis,  thus  address  his 
fellow-conspirators : 

"  There  is  nothing  so  void  of  understanding,  nothing 
so  full  of  wantonness,  as  the  unwieldv  rabble.  It  were 
folly  not  to  be  borne,  for  men,  while  seeking  to  escape 
the  wantonness  of  a  tyrant,  to  give  themselves  up  to  the 
wantonness  of  a  rude  unbridled  mol).  The  tyrant,  in 
all  his  doings,  at  least  knows  what  he  is  about,  but  a 
mob  is  altogether  devoid  of  knowledge;  for  how  should 
there  be  any  knowledge  in  a  rabble,  untaught,  and  with 
no  natural  sense  of  what  is  right  and  fit?  It  rushes 
wildly  into  state  affairs  with  all  the  fury  of  a  stream 
swollen  in  the  winter,  and  confuses  everything.  Let  the 
enemies  of  the  Persians  be  ruled  by  democracies;  but 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    STATE        323 

let  us  choose  out  from  the  citizens  a  certain  number  of 
the  worthiest,  and  put  the  government  into  their 
hands."  ^ 

To  be  sure,  we,  who  belong  to  a  modern,  enlightened 
democracy,  would  resent  being  called  "  a  rude  unbridled 
mob,"  and  being  likened  to  the  populace  of  ancient 
Persia.  But  those  of  us  who  reflect  recognize  the  dangers 
that  lurk  in  the  "  psychology  of  the  crowd  "  ;  and  we  are 
all  aware  that,  after  a  popular  vote,  it  is  quite  possible 
to  discover  that  few,  except  a  handful  of  office-holders, 
have  gotten  anything  that  they  really  want.  Democ- 
racy is  not  a  panacea  for  all  political  evils,  and  there 
are  democracies  of  many  kinds. 

Still,  when  all  is  said,  it  seems  as  though  the  Rational 
Social  Will,  the  ultimate  arbiter  of  every  moral  State, 
should  give  its  authority  to  a  democratic  form  of  govern- 
ment, rather  than  to  another  form.  Every  individual 
will  has  a  prima  facie  claim  to  recognition. 

But  the  Rational  Social  Will  can  never  forget  that 
human  nature  is  in  process  of  development,  and  that  each 
nation,  at  a  given  time,  is  a  historical  phenomenon.  The 
Rational  Social  Will  is  too  enlightened  to  drape  an 
infant  in  the  raiment  appropriate  to  a  college  graduate. 
It  is  only  an  intemperate  enthusiasm  that  is  capable 
of  that. 

157.  The  Laws  of  the  State. —The  Stat€  allots  to 
individuals,  and  to  the  lesser  groups  of  human  beings, 
of  which  it  is  composed,  rights,  and  it  prescribes  to  them 
duties.  Upon  its  activities  in  this  sphere  I  can  touch 
only  by  way  of  illustration,  and  for  the  sake  of  making 
clear  the  nature  of  the  functions  of  the  State, 

*  Op.  cit.  Book  III,  chapter  Ixxxi. 


324       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

(1)  To  whom  shall  the  State  grant  a  share  in  the 
formulation  and  execution  of  its  laws?  Once,  in  com- 
munities very  enlightened,  in  their  own  peculiar  way, 
women,  children,  slaves,  mechanics,  petty  traders,  and 
hired  servants  were  deemed  quite  unfit  to  be  entrusted 
with  such  responsibilities.^ 

With  us,  the  position  of  woman  has  changed.  Slavery, 
in  a  technical  sense,  has  been  abolished.  The  mechanic 
and  the  petty  trader  are  much  in  evidence  at  "  prima- 
ries." Hired  servants  are  by  some  accused  of  being 
tyrants.  Children,  and  defectives  who  are  grossly  and 
palpably  defective,  we  bar  from  elections,  and  we  also 
reject  some  criminals. 

The  times  have  changed,  and  our  notions  of  the  right 
of  the  individual  to  an  active  share  in  the  State  have 
changed  with  them.  The  expression  of  the  social  will 
has  undergone  modification,  and  I  think  we  can  say  that 
it  is,  on  the  whole,  modification  in  the  right  direction. 

To  be  sure,  the  court  of  last  resort  is  the  Rational 
Social  Will.  What  is  best  for  the  State,  and,  hence,  for 
those  who  compose  it?  What  is  practicable  in  the  ac- 
tual condition  in  which  a  given  state  finds  itself  at  a 
given  time?  It  seems  too  easy  a  solution  of  our  prob- 
lems to  seek  dogmatic  answers  to  our  questionings  by 
having  recourse  to  the  "  natural  light,"  that  ready  oracle 
of  the  philosopher,  Descartes. 

(2)  There  arc  certain  classes  of  rights  which  civilized 
states  generally  guarantee  to  their  citizens  with  varying 
degrees  of  success.  They  make  it  the  duty  of  their 
citizens  to  respect  these  rights  in  others. 

(a)  The  laws  protect  life  and  limb.     Much  progress 

''  See  Aristotle's  Politics. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    STATE        325 

has  been  made  in  this  respect  in  the  last  centuries  past. 
I  own  no  coat  of  mail;  and,  when  I  walk  abroad,  I 
neither  carry  a  sword  nor  surround  myself  with  armed 
retainers. 

(t>)  They  protect  private  property.  To  be  sure,  the 
"  promoter  "  may  prey  upon  my  simplicity ;  and  the 
state  itself  does  not  recognize  that  I  have  any  absolute 
right  to  my  property,  any  more  than  it  recognizes  that 
I  have  an  absolute  right  to  my  life. 

It  may  send  me  into  the  trenches.  It  may  take  from 
me  what  it  will  in  the  form  of  taxes.  It  may  even  forbid 
me  to  increase  my  income  by  using  my  property  in 
ways  which  will  make  me  insupportable  to  my  neighbors. 
But  it  will  not  allow  my  neighbor,  who  is  stronger  than 
I,  to  take  possession  of  my  house  without  form  of  law. 
It  will  even  allow  me  to  dispose  of  my  property  by  will, 
after  my  death. 

I  suggest  that  those,  to  whom  this  right  appears  to  be 
rooted  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  and  not  to  be  a 
creation  of  the  State,  called  into  being  at  the  behest  of 
the  social  will  in  a  certain  stage  of  its  development, 
should  read  and  re-read  what  Sir  Henry  Maine  has  to 
say  about  testamentary  succession,  in  his  wonderful 
little  book  on  "  Ancient  Law.  " " 

The  State  has  not  always  treated  a  man  as  an  indi- 
vidual, directly  and  personally  responsible  to  the  state. 
It  has  treated  him  as  a  member  of  a  family  or  some 
other  group;  a  being  endowed,  by  virtue  of  his  position, 
with  certain  rights,  and  burdened  with  certain  duties. 
A  being  who,  when  he  drops  out  of  being,  is  auto- 
matically replaced  by  someone  else  who  is  clothed  upon 
with  both  his  rights  and  his  responsibilities. 
^  See  chapters  vi   and  vii. 


326       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

Our  conceptions  have  changed.  The  lesser  groups 
within  the  State  have  to  some  degree  lost  their  cohesion, 
and  the  bond  between  the  individual,  as  such,  and  the 
state  has  been  correspondingly  strengthened.  But  many 
traces  of  the  old  conception  make  themselves  apparent. 
The  law  compels  me  to  provide  for  my  wife  and  children ; 
and,  if  I  die  intestate,  the  law  by  no  means  assumes  that 
my  property  is  left  without  a  claimant. 

Have  we  been  moving  in  the  right  direction,  as  judged 
by  the  standard  of  the  Rational  Social  Will?  We  think 
so.  But  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  what  Herodotus  said 
about  the  madness  of  Cambyses,  and  the  prejudice  men 
have  in  favor  of  their  own  customs.  No  state  is  a 
mere  aggregate  of  unrelated  individuals.  Men  are  set 
in  families,  and  the  State  seems  to  be  composed  of  groups 
within  groups.  How  far  the  State  should  recognize  the 
will  of  the  individual,  as  over  against  the  claims  of  the 
lesser  groups  to  which  he  may  belong,  is  a  nice  question 
for  the  Rational  Social  Will  to  settle. 

(c)  The  law  must  regulate  marriage  and  divorce. 
Matters  so  vital  to  the  interests  of  society  cannot  be 
left  at  the  mercy  of  the  egoistic  whims  of  the  individual. 
But  to  what  law  shall  we  have  recourse?  It  seems  highly 
irrational  to  have  forty-eight  independent  authorities 
upon  this  subject  within  the  limits  of  a  single  nation. 
And,  if  we  turn  the  matter  over  to  tlie  churches,  we 
discover  that  we  have  committed  it  to  the  care  of  one 
hundred  and  eighty,  or  more,  sects.  Add  to  this,  that 
a  state  of  any  sort  cannot  be  set  upon  its  feet  without 
some  difficulty,  while  any  enterprising  man  or  woman 
can  call  a  sect  into  existence  any  day.  There  is  a  new 
adherent  for  sectarian  eccentricities  born  every  minute. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    STATE        327 

Surely,  here  is  a  field  for  the  activities  of  the  Rational 
Social  Will. 

(d)  To  paternalism  of  some  sort  the  modern  State, 
as  law-giver,  seems  hopelessly  pledged.  If  we  ignore 
this  we  are  simply  closing  our  eyes.  The  State  seems 
to  be  justified  in  educating  its  citizens,  in  protecting 
children  and  women  against  exploitation,  in  protecting 
the  working  classes,  in  stamping  out  infectious  diseases. 
We  are  not  even  allowed  to  expectorate  when  and  where 
we  will,  a  privilege  enjoyed  by  the  merest  savage. 

(e)  In  one  respect  the  paternalism  of  our  own  State 
has  lagged  behind  that  of  certain  others.  We  do  little 
to  secure  to  a  man  a  decent  privacy,  or  to  safeguard 
his  personal  dignity.  The  newspaper  reporter  is  allowed 
to  rage  unchecked,  to  unearth  scandals  in  private  fami- 
lies, and  to  cause  great  pain  by  printing  the  names  of 
individuals. 

I  have  known,  in  Europe,  a  man,  after  a  difference 
of  opinion  touching  the  ventilation  of  a  railway 
carriage,  to  break  a  window  with  his  elbow  and  to 
apply  to  his  fellow-passenger  an  offensive  epithet.  The 
court  made  him  pay  a  dollar  and  a  half  for  breaking 
the  window  and  six  dollars  for  giving  himself  the  pleasure 
of  being  insulting. 

Which  was  the  greater  offense?  Herodotus  would 
expect  this  question  to  be  answered  in  accordance  with 
the  prejudices  of  the  person  giving  the  answer. 

158.  The  Rights  and  Duties  of  the  State.  —  The  State 
evidently  has  rights  over  its  citizens,  and  may  enforce 
these  rights  through  the  infliction  of  punishment.  It 
as  evidently  has  duties.  A  given  state  may  not  be 
answerable  to  any  actual  given  power.     Our  own  State 


328       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

is  in  such  a  position  at  the  present  time  —  there  is  no 
other  state  strong  enough  to  call  it  to  account. 

But  this  does  not  free  it  from  duties.  No  state  is 
anything  more  than  a  brute  force,  except  as  it  incorpo- 
rates, in  some  measure,  the  Rational  Social  Will.  And 
states  that  fall  far  short,  as  judged  by  this  standard, 
may  overstep  their  rights  and  ignore  their  duties,  whether 
they  are  dealing  with  individuals  or  with  other  states. 

In  punishing,  the  State  should  punish  rationally.^ 
And  it  should  not  demand  of  its  subjects  what  will  de- 
grade them  as  moral  beings.  "  We  all  recognize,"  said 
a  pure  and  candid  soul,  "  that  a  rightful  sovereign  may 
command  his  subjects  to  do  what  is  wrong,  and  that  it 
is  then  their  duty  to  disobey  him."  ^ 

But  how  discover  what  demands  are  just?  It  is  the 
whole  argument  of  this  volume  that  no  man  should  ven- 
ture an  opinion  upon  this  subject  without  having  come 
to  some  appreciation  of  what  is  meant  by  the  Rational 
Social  Will.  Man,  his  instincts,  the  degree  of  his  intelli- 
gence and  self-control,  the  history  of  the  development 
of  human  societies,  cannot  be  ignored.  It  is  the  weak- 
ness of  good  men,  endowed  with  a  high  degree  of  specula- 
tive intelligence,  to  construct  Utopias,  and  to  tabulate 
the  "  rights  of  man,"  or,  as  Bentham  well  expressed  it, 
to  make  lists  of  "  anarchical  fallacies."  ^ 

Thus,  some  may,  with  Plato  and  Aristotle,  advocate 
infanticide.  The  Greek  city-state  was  a  crowded  little 
affair,  and  in  danger  of  over-population.  Some  may 
propose   radical   measures   to   increase   the   population. 

"^  See  chapter  xxxii  §  148. 

8  SiDGwicK,  Methods  of  Ethics,  III.  vi. 

*  See  Works,  Bowring's  Edition,  Volume  II. 


THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    STATE        329 

To  France  and  Argentina,  in  our  day,  such  an  increase 
appears  highly  desirable.  May  any  and  every  method 
be  embraced  which  seems  adapted  to  avert  a  given  evil 
or  to  attain  to  a  desired  end?  It  is  instructive  to  note 
that  Francis  Galton,  the  father  of  "  eugenics,"  proposed 
to  leave  morals  out  of  the  question  as  "  involving  too 
many  hopeless  difficuties."  ^°  But  do  men  live  well  who 
leave  morals  out  of  the  question? 

The  man  who  falls  back  upon  intuition  alone,  in  his 
advocacy  of  the  abolition  of  capital  punishment,  may  be 
expected  to  maintain  next  that  a  state,  in  going  to  war, 
should  stop  short  at  the  point  where  the  lives  of  its 
citizens  are  put  in  jeopardy.  Why  kill  a  good  man, 
when  it  is  wrong  to  kill  a  bad  one? 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  State  and  its  representa- 
tives enjoy  some  rights  and  duties  not  accorded  to  indivi- 
duals. The  State  may  condemn  men  to  death  or  to 
imprisonment;  it  may  take  over  property;  it  may  make 
itself  a  compulsory  arbiter  between  individuals.  On 
the  other  hand,  its  representatives  are  not  always  as 
free  as  are  private  persons.  The  individual,  if  he  is 
a  generous  soul,  may  freely  forego  some  of  his  advan- 
tages and  may  seek  only  a  fair  fight  with  an  opponent. 
It  is  doubtful  whether  the  duty  the  State  owes  to  its 
citizens  permits  of  chivalry.  Certainly  strong  states 
do  not  hesitate  to  attack  weak  ones;  nor  do  many  hesi- 
tate to  combine  against  one,  on  the  score  of  fair  play. 
And  a  private  man  may  temper  justice  with  mercy  in 
ways  forbidden  to  a  judge. 

^°  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  11th  edition,  article,  "  Sociology." 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
INTERNATIONAL  ETHICS 

159.  What  is  Meant  by  the  Term.  —  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  avoid  the  discussion  of  this  thorny  subject 
by  simply  referring  the  reader  to  what  has  been  said 
already  on  "  The  Spread  of  the  Community,"  and  devel- 
oped in  the  chapters  on  "  The  Rational  Social  Will  "  and 
"  The  Individual  and  the  Social  Will."  ^ 

He  who  confines  himself  to  generalities  avoids  many 
difficulties  and  can  assure  himself  of  the  approval  of 
many.  Who  condemns  justice  and  humanity  in  the 
abstract?  Who  can  wax  eloquent  in  his  condemnation 
of  freedom?  Who  finds  the  Christian  Church  on  his  side, 
when  he  advocates  rapacity  and  the  oppression  of  the 
helpless,  without  entering  into  details? 

On  the  other  hand,  who  wishes  to  view  his  country 
with  a  cold  impartiality,  and  to  place  its  interests  ex- 
actly on  a  par  with  the  interests  of  other  lands?  Who, 
save  the  Chinaman  himself,  thinks  it  as  important  that 
a  Chinaman  should  have  enough  to  eat  as  that  an 
American  or  an  Englishman  should?  Was  not  the 
turpitude,  that  excluded  the  Chinaman  from  Australia, 
traced  to  the  two  deadly  sins  of  undue  diligence  and 
sobriety?  2  As  for  freedom,  men  of  certain  nations 
regard  it  as  the  highest  virtue  to  be  willing  to  die  for 

^  See  §  75  and  chapters  xxi-xxii. 

2  Encyclopedia  Britannica,   11th  edition,  article,  "Australia." 

330 


INTERNATIONAL    ETHICS  331 

it  —  their  own  freedom,  be  it  understood,  —  while  they 
regard  the  same  desire  for  freedom  on  the  part  of  their 
colonists  as  a  moral  obliquity  to  be  extirpated,  root  and 
branch. 

That  the  historian  and  the  sociologist  should  find 
much  to  saj''  touching  the  relation  of  nations  to  each 
other  and  to  subject  peoples  goes  without  saying. 
But  the  cynic  may  maintain  with  some  plausibility 
that  the  moralist's  chapter  on  International  Ethics  must 
be  as  void  of  content  as  the  traditional  chapter  on 
"  Snakes  in  Ireland."  In  this  the  cynic  is  wrong,  as 
usual;  but  it  is  instructive  to  listen  to  him,  if  only  that 
we  may  intelligently  refute  him. 

It  is  not  always  easy  for  an  individual  to  determine 
just  what  he  owes  to  his  family,  to  his  neighbors,  or 
to  his  country.  Is  it  surprising  that  it  should  be  diffi- 
cult for  men  to  determine  just  what  one  country,  or  what 
one  race,  owes  to  another?  This  is  the  subject  of  inter- 
national ethics.  He  who  treads  upon  this  ground  should 
walk  gingerly,  and  not  feel  too  sure  of  himself.  But 
there  is  no  reason  why  the  moralist  should  not  put  upon 
paper  such  reflections  as  occur  to  him.  He  cannot  say 
anything  more  devoid  of  reason  than  much  that  is  said 
by  others. 

The  great  Grotius,  in  writing  on  international  law,  in 
the  seventeenth  century,  drew  his  illustrations  chiefly 
from  Greeks  and  Romans  long  dead.  He  had  much 
more  recent  material  ready  to  hand.  But  he  well  knew 
that  he,  who  would  induce  another  to  give  him  calm  and 
dispassionate  attention,  must  not  begin  by  treading  on 
the  toes  of  his  listener.  I  shall  strive  to  profit  by  his 
example.  It  is  best  to  say  only  what  each  man  can 
apply  to  his  neighbor.     We  are  all  sensitive  in  this  field. 


332       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

160.  Our  Method  of  Approach  to  the  Subject.  —  We 

have  seen  (§80)  that  rational  elements  are  to  be  found 
even  in  the  irrational  will,  if  one  will  look  below  the 
surface. 

Is  it  rational  for  the  mother  to  place  before  all  else 
the  interests  of  the  hairless,  toothless  and,  apparently, 
mindless  little  creature  that  she  clasps  to  her  breast? 
The  very  existence  of  society  depends  upon  her  having 
the  feeling  that  prompts  her  to  do  it.  Is  it  rational  to 
favor  one's  neighbor,  to  be  proud  of  one's  native  town, 
which  may  be  a  poor  sort  of  a  town?  Is  it  rational 
to  be  patriotic,  even  when  one's  state  is  not  much  of 
a  state? 

We  have  seen  that  the  Rational  Social  Will  incorpor- 
ates itself  in  societies  very  gradually,  and  that  it  draws 
into  its  service  lesser  groups  of  many  descriptions.  He 
who  detaches  himself  from  these  lesser  groups  is  not  a 
man.  He  is  the  mere  outline  of  a  man  —  the  "  feather- 
less  biped  "  of  the  philosopher.  It  is  not  of  such  that  a 
state  can  be  made. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  state  to  prevent  a  man  from 
shrinking  into  being  the  mere  member  of  some  lesser 
group,  but  it  is  not  its  duty  to  obliterate  what  is 
human  in  him.  And  the  Rational  Social  Will  must  see 
to  it  that  he  does  not,  on  the  other  hand,  forget,  in  a 
blind  and  irrational  patriotism,  that  he  is  a  human  being 
with  a  capacity  for  human  sympathies  —  sympathies 
extending  far  beyond  the  limits  of  any  state.  Except 
when  they  are  under  the  influence  of  strong  passion, 
I  think  we  may  say  that  men  in  civilized  states,  at 
least,  have  already  shown  themselves  amenable  to  the 
influence  of  the  Rational  Social  Will  in  this  direction. 


INTERNATIONAL    ETHICS  333 

It  must  be  confessed  that  that  influence  has,  as  yet, 
been  limited. 

The  approach  to  the  subject  of  international  ethics 
must  lie  in  the  recognition  that  men  are  set  in  families, 
in  neighborhoods,  in  towns  or  cities,  in  states;  and  are 
yet  human  beings  with  a  capacity  for  respecting  and 
loving  those  who  belong  to  none  of  these  particular 
organizations.  My  advice  to  the  man  who  wishes  to 
abuse  his  fellow-man  is  to  do  it  quickly,  and  before  he 
is  acquainted  with  him.  If  he  gets  to  know  him  well, 
he  will  probably  find  something  lovable  in  him,  and 
he  will  lose  the  pleasure  of  being  malicious. 

161.  Some  Problems  of  International  Ethics.  —  The 
man  who  reads  history  finds,  sometimes,  things  to  in- 
spire him;  and  sometimes,  things  that  are  depressing. 
He  sees  that  the  family  must  expand  into  the  clan, 
that  the  clan  must  come  into  contact  with  others,  that 
the  state  must  rise,  and  that  some  interrelation  of  states 
is  an  inevitable  necessity.  He  sees  that  man's  increase 
in  insight,  in  diligence,  in  enterprise,  must  make  him 
reach  out  and  trade  with  his  fellow-man. 

He  sees  also  conquest,  with  the  subjugation  of  peoples; 
he  sees  trade  extended  by  force,  and  under  the  smoke 
of  cannon;  he  sees  a  peaceful  economic  penetration,  which 
ends  in  protectorates  and  annexations,  in  defiance  of  the 
will  of  those  who  do  not  want  to  be  either  protected  or 
annexed. 

What  is  rational  is  real,  and  what  is  real  is  rational, 
said  Hegel.^  He  further  maintained  that  civilized 
nations  may  treat  as  barbarians  peoples  who  are  behind 
them  in  the  "  essential  elements  of  the  state  "  ;  and  also 

3  fhe  Philosophy  oj  Right,  Preface,  and  see  §  §  351  and  347. 


334        THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

that,  in  a  given  epoch,  a  given  nation  is  dominant,  and 
"  other  existing  nations  are  void  of  right." 

Hegel  has  long  been  dead,  and  is  turned  to  dust.  He 
always  was  as  dry  as  dust,  even  when  he  was  alive,  but 
he  was  a  great  man.  But  the  famous  Englishman,  Sir 
Thomas  More,  wrote  more  engagingly;  and  does  he  not 
tell  us,  in  his  "  Utopia,"  that  any  nation's  holding  unused 
a  piece  of  ground  needed  for  the  nourishment  of  other 
people  is  a  just  cause  of  war? 

Such  doctrines  should  be  most  comforting  to  us  Ameri- 
cans. They  appear  to  teach  us  that  we  are,  at  present, 
the  chosen  people;  that  the  rights  of  other  peoples  are 
as  the  rights  of  the  Hivites,  the  Hittites,  and  all  the 
rest;  that  we  are  justified  in  taking  what  we  please,  for 
who  is  there  to  withstand  us? 

Yet  ethical  Americans  shake  their  heads  over  such 
philosophies,  and  some  of  them  even  speak  slightingly 
of  philosophers.  This,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  great 
men  seldom  talk  pure  nonsense,  except  when  carried 
away  by  excitement,  as  all  men  may  be,  at  times. 
If  what  they  say  sounds  to  us  wholly  unmeaning,  it  is 
probable  that  we  have  not  fully  understood  the  voice 
that  speaks  within  them.  What  can  be  said  in  their  de- 
fense? and  what  can  be  said  in,  at  least,  partial  defence 
of  the  actual  historical  procedure  of  the  nations?  They 
have  not  been  wholly  composed  of  criminals,  and  they 
must  possess  at  least  the  rudiments  of  a  moral  sense. 

(1)  We  have  seen  that  the  state  maintains  its  right 
as  against  those  who  belong  to  it  by  controlling,  not  by 
destroying,  the  lesser  groups  which  exist  within  the  state. 
Such  a  control  appears  to  be  demanded  by  the  Rational 
Social  Will,  but  it  often  frustrates  the  will  of  the 
individual. 


INTERNATIONAL    ETHICS  335 

(2)  "We  have  seen  that  the  spread  of  the  community 
is  inevitable,  and  that,  in  the  interests  of  rationality,  it 
is  desirable. 

(3)  We  have  seen  that,  even  in  the  family,  all  the 
members  are  not  equally  free  agents.  The  small  boy 
is  not  consulted  touching  the  amount  of  his  punishment, 
nor  can  he  dictate  where  it  shall  be  laid  on.  And  the 
state  does  not  give  to  all  the  individuals  in  it  equal 
political  rights,  nor  guarantee  to  them  an  equal  share 
of  influence.  This  is  desirable,  on  the  whole,  in  the 
interests  of  the  whole,  but  grave  abuses  may  easily 
come  into  being. 

(4j  We  have  seen  that  the  greater  whole  guarantees 
to  individuals  rights,  and  assigns  to  them  duties.  In 
so  far.  as  it  is  rational,  it  cannot  do  this  arbitrarily.  To 
have  recourse  to  metaphysical  abstractions  is  futile. 
Shall  we  say,  without  hedging,  that  a  man  has  a  right  to 
the  fruits  of  his  labor,  or  that  first  occupation  gives  a 
right  to  the  soil?  Then,  shall  the  man  who  is  too  weak  to 
work  be  refused  a  right  to  the  ownership  of  a  coat? 
Or  must  the  discoverer  of  a  continent  prove  a  real 
occupancy,  by  performing  the  ridiculous  task  of  the 
abnormal  center  of  the  mythical  mathematical  infinite 
circle,  by  being  ever>' where  at  the  same  time? 

(5)  We  have  seen  that  the  human  community,  taking 
the  words  in  a  broad  sense,  will  spread,  and  already 
has  spread,  beyond  the  limits  of  several  nationalities. 
It  is  in  the  interest  of  human  society  that  it  should  do 
so.  It  is  rational,  in  the  sense  of  the  word  everywhere 
used  in  this  book.  But  the  nations  continue  to  exist, 
and  they  often  cultivate  selfishly  national  interests.  So 
do  families  cultivate  selfishly  family  interests.    So  does 


336       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

the  egoist  selfishly  dig  about  and  fertilize  the  number 
One. 

(6)  It  requires  little  acuteness  to  see  that  some  com- 
munities of  men  are  miserable  exponents  of  the  social 
will.  They  are  deplorably  governed.  Read  Slatin's  fas- 
cinating book,  "  Fire  and  Sword  in  the  Soudan,"  —  it  is 
better  than  any  novel,  —  and  ask  yourself  what  becomes 
of  the  social  will  or  of  rationality  of  any  sort  under  the 
rule  of  a  Mahdi,  Is  it  not  the  duty  of  the  nations  to 
combine  and  to  relieve  suffering  humanity? 

(7)  There  are  theorists  who  maintain  that,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  the  soil  belongs  to  nobody.  We  find, 
in  the  actual  state  of  things,  it  usually  belongs  to  some- 
body, unless  it  is  so  poor  that  it  is  not  worth  owning  at 
all.  But  it  may  belong  to  somebody  who  can  make 
little  more  use  of  it  than  an  infant  can  of  a  gold  watch. 
A  handful  of  Indians,  wandering  over  a  great  tract  of 
country  in  which  they  chase  game  in  the  intervals  of 
time  during  which  they  chase  and  scalp  one  another, 
may  have  an  immemorial,  although  unrecorded,  title  to 
the  land. 

Shall  they  be  permitted  to  keep  back  settlers  from 
more  or  less  civilized  and  densely  populated  countries? 
Settlers  eager  to  cultivate  the  land  and  to  make  it  support 
many,  where  before  it  supported  few,  and  supported  those 
few  miserably? 

And  shall  the  natural  resources  of  great  regions  of 
the  earth  be  permitted  to  lie  fallow  merely  because  the 
actual  inhabitants  are  too  ignorant  and  too  indolent  to 
want  to  produce  anything  and  to  trade?  He  who  finds 
his  happiness  in  idleness,  bananas,  and  black  wives  who 
can  be  beaten  with  impunity,  has  little  interest  in  inter- 


INTERNATIONAL    ETHICS  337 

national  traffic,  with  such  blessings  as  it  is  supposed 
to  bring. 

The  world  is  filling  up.  The  losses  due  to  war  and 
pestilence,  said  no  less  an  authority  than  Darwin,  are 
soon  made  up.  There  is  something  terrifying  in  what 
the  very  modern  science  of  geography  has  to  tell  us  about 
the  rapidity  with  which  the  remaining  part  of  the  earth's 
surface,  available  for  the  nourishment  of  man,  is  being 
exhausted.  What  problems  will  face  the  Rational  Social 
Will  in  the  none  too  distant  future? 

162.  The  Other  Side  of  the  Shield.  — We  have  seen 
that  something  can  be  said  for  the  philosopher.  The 
Rational  Social  Will  does  not  appear  to  give  carte 
blanche  to  the  man  who  wishes  to  remain  ignorant,  idle, 
cut  off  from  the  family  of  the  nations,  the  possessor  of 
great  tracts  of  land  which  he  will  not  develop,  the  cruel 
oppressor  of  such  as  he  finds  within  his  power.  It  tends 
to  deal  with  him,  wherever  it  finds  him,  as  an  enlightened 
nation  treats  the  idle,  the  vicious  and  the  irresponsible 
within  its  own  borders. 

Undoubtedly  civilization  has  made  some  advance  in 
the  course  of  the  centuries.  When  the  world  is  at  peace, 
the  stranger  is  not  normally  an  outlaw.  I  have  sojourned 
in  the  cities  of  many  of  the  nations  of  Europe  and  have 
made  excursions  into  Africa  and  Asia.  Nowhere  have 
I  been  compelled  to  ask  for  the  protection  of  an  American 
consul.  It  has  been  recognized  that  I  had  rights,  although 
an  American.  And  the  ability  to  sign  my  name  has  pro- 
cured me  a  supply  of  money. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  it  is  depressing  to  read  of  the 
dealings  of  the  nations  with  each  other,  and  with  back- 
ward peoples  —  who  have  been  well  defined  as  peoples 


338       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

who  possess  gold-mines,  but  no  efficient  navy.  Is  it 
not  generally  taken  for  granted  that  it  is  the  duty  of 
more  powerful  and  more  enlightened  nations  to  take 
the  backward  nations  in  hand,  to  exploit  their  resources, 
and,  incidentally,  to  exploit  them? 

Not  that  international  law  has  not  counted  for  some- 
thing. To  be  sure  Hegel  reduced  it  to  the  level  of  "  a 
good  intention,"  ^  but  it  has  counted  for  something. 
Descartes  and  Spinoza  could,  with  impunity,  be  heretics 
in  little  Holland.  Switzerland  has  for  centuries  been 
the  refuge  of  the  oppressed.  But  we  cannot  forget  that 
our  highest  authority,  Captain  Mahan,  declared,  in  1889, 
that  certain  rights  of  neutrals  were  "  forever  secured,  "  ^ 
and  he  has  since  stood  revealed  as  a  false  prophet,  a  mere 
man  making  a  guess.  International  law  is  a  capital 
thing  —  when  it  is  not  put  under  a  strain,  and  when  no 
nation  is  too  powerful. 

The  depressing  thing  is  that  rapacity  and  oppression 
become  glorified,  when  the  cloak  of  patriotism  is  thrown 
over  their  shoulders.  I  drew  my  illustrations  in  the 
last  section  from  wild  Indians  and  from  African  savages. 
But  there  are  nations  in  all  stages  of  their  development. 
How  "  backward  "  must  a  nation  be  to  give  us  the  right 
to  rule  over  it  by  force?  No  people  were  more  ingenious 
than  the  ancient  Romans  in  finding  plausible  reasons 
for  the  wars  which  it  pleased  them  to  wage.  This  has 
never  been  a  lost  art.  Men's  enemies  are,  like  the  absent, 
always  in  the  wrong;  and  those  are  apt  to  become  ene- 
mies, in  whose  defeat  some  substantial  advantage  is  to 
be  looked  for. 

*  The  Philosophy  of  Right,  §  §  330-333. 

'"'  The  Influence   oj  Sea  Power  upon  History,  Boston,   1908, 
chapter  ii,  p.  84. 


INTERNATIONAL    ETHICS  339 

163.  The  Solution.  —  The  very  title  seems  a  presump- 
tion. Who  may  dogmatize  in  matters  so  involved? 
I  make  no  pretentions  to  giving  a  clear  vision  of  "  yonder 
shining  light,"  but  I  venture  to  hint  at  the  general  direc- 
tion in  which  one  is  to  seek  the  little  wicket  gate. 

The  only  ethical  solution  of  our  problem  appears  to 
lie  in  the  frank  recognition  of  the  fact  that  the  groups 
of  men,  called  nations,  may  be  as  brutal  egoists  as  are 
individual  persons,  and  in  the  earnest  attempt  to  avoid 
the  baleful  influence  of  such  egoism. 

Man  is  his  brother's  keeper.  But  that  does  not  give 
him  the  right  to  keep  his  brother  in  chains,  nor  to  use 
him  for  selfish  ends.  This  is  as  true  of  nations  as  it  is 
of  individuals,  of  families,  of  religious  orders,  or  of 
unions,  whether  of  employers  or  of  employees. 

It  is  certainly  true  of  nations.  It  is  only  as  having  a 
place  in,  and  as  being  an  instrument  of,  the  great  organ- 
ism of  humanity  aimed  at  by  the  Rational  Social  Will, 
that  the  individual,  the  family,  the  tribe,  the  nation, 
have  any  ethical  justification  for  being  at  all.  Some- 
times it  is  very  profitable  for  the  individual,  or  for  some 
group  of  human  beings,  to  disallow  this  obligation  to 
be  moral.  We  treat  the  individual  as  a  robber;  why  not 
admit  that   there   are   robber   nations? 

I  feel  like  reiterating  that  it  is  a  great  thing  to  be 
young;  to  live  in  that  Golden  Age  in  which  one  still 
believes  what  one  sees  in  print,  and  still  is  moved  by 
the  honeyed  words  of  statesmen.  When  one  is  old,  and 
has  enjoyed  some  breadth  of  culture,  one  has  read  the 
newspapers  of  many  lands,  and  has  met  a  certain  number 
of  statesmen,  usually  with  a  start  of  surprise. 

It  is  borne  in  upon  one  —  a  matter  touched  upon  in 


340       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

the  last  chapter  —  that  it  appears  to  be  generally  ac- 
cepted that  the  state  and  its  representatives  may  adopt  a 
peculiar  variety  of  ethics.  Certainly  statesmen  feel  jus- 
tified in  doing  for  their  country  what  they,  as  gentlemen, 
would  never  dream  of  doing  for  themselves.  They  talk 
of  justice,  when  they  would  scoff  at  such  justice  within 
the  borders  of  their  own  states;  they  talk  of  humanity, 
and  they  have  in  mind  the  economic  advantage  of  their 
own  peoples;  they  speak  of  protection  and  Christianiza- 
tion,  when  they  mean  economic  exploitation  or  strategic 
superiority.  As  for  truth,  the  less  said  about  that  subject 
the  better. 

I  know  of  only  one  way  in  which  the  determination 
of  a  nation  to  aid  in  the  general  realization  of  the 
Rational  Social  Will  can  be  tested.  Does  it,  in  dealing 
with  other  nations,  civilized  or  backward,  propose  what 
is  palpablj'  to  its  own  advantage,  or  is  it  evidently  disin- 
terested? It  is  thus  that  we  judge  a  man,  when  we  wish 
to  fix  his  ethical  status ;  it  is  thus  that  the  Rational  Social 
Will  judges  a  nation.  The  language  in  which  the  pro- 
posals are  made  is  a  matter  of  no  moment.  It  may 
fairly  be  called  professional  slang,  and  can  quickly  be 
acquired,  even  by  men  of  mediocre  intelligence,  in  any 
diplomatic  circle. 

164.  The  Necessity  for  Caution.  —  Shall  a  man,  then, 
eschew  patriotism,  and  become  a  citizen  of  the  world, 
as  though  he  were  a  Stoic  philosopher?  By  no  means. 
As  well  eschew  the  family  or  the  neighborhood.  But 
let  him  not,  in  his  patriotism,  forget  that  he  is  a  man. 
Here,  as  everywhere,  he  is  called  upon  to  exercise 
judgment.  This  is  a  burden  which  he  can  never  throw 
off.     He  must  pay  the  penalty  of  being  a  rational  human 


IXTERXATIOXAL    ETHICS  341 

being.  As  an  instrument  of  the  Rational  Social  Will  the 
state  must  be  kept  up.  It  is  his  duty  to  see  that  it  is 
done.  His  cat  has  an  easier  task;  she  may  sleep  her 
life  away  in  peace. 

We  hear  much  of  the  brotherhood  of  man  and  of  arti- 
ficial barriers.  The  barriers  are  not  all  artificial,  and 
they  cannot  be  swept  away  with  a  gesture. 

Races  and  peoples  are  formed  upon  the  model  of  their 
own  immemorial  past.  They  have  their  institutions, 
their  traditions,  their  loyalties,  their  standards  of  living. 
What  is  tolerable  to  one  man  is  wholly  intolerable  to 
another.  To  compel  men  to  live  together  in  intimacy, 
when  centuries  of  training  have  made  them  antipathetic, 
is  sheer  cruelty. 

Men  may  be  brothers,  but  there  are  big  brothers  and 
little  brothers.  I  do  not  refer  to  physical  bulk.  I  refer 
to  the  development  of  intelligence,  to  the  degree  and  kind 
of  culture,  which  has  been  attained.  There  are  little 
brothers  still  at  the  stage  of  development  at  which  it  is 
natural  for  human  beings  to  drool.  Shall  we  have  them 
sit  up  to  the  table  and  serve  them  with  the  complete 
dinner,  enlivening  it  with  intellectual  conversation? 

Between  incontinently  doing  this,  and  relegating  the 
little  brothers  to  a  nursery  where  they  will  be  treated 
with  cruelty  and  starved  in  our  interests,  some  persons 
seem  to  think  there  is  no  middle  course.  In  their  en- 
thusiasm for  humanity,  they  forget  that  the  brotherhood 
of  man  may  be  made  as  ridiculous  as  the  eight-hour 
day.  Between  eight  hours  of  the  creative  work  of  a 
Milton  and  eight  hours  of  the  dawdling  done  by  a  lazy 
housemaid,  there  is  no  relation  save  that  both  may  be 
measured  by  a  clock. 


342       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

These  enthusiasts  forget  much.  Men  are  not  alike; 
they  do  not  want  to  be  alike;  they  do  not  want  to 
live  together  in  close  intimacy,  when  they  have  little  in 
common;  the}"  reverence  different  things;  as  a  rule,  they 
would  rather  be  somewhat  unhappy  after  their  own 
fashion,  than  be  happy  under  compulsion,  after  the 
fashion  of  someone  else. 

We  have,  thus,  on  the  one  hand,  the  enthusiasts  who 
would  at  once  sound  the  trump  and  announce  the  mil- 
lenium,  feeding  the  lion  and  the  sucking  calf  out  of  the 
same  dish  and  on  the  same  meat.  We  have,  on  the  other, 
those  who  are  eager  to  take  on  their  shoulders  the  white 
man's  burden  —  to  enclose  in  a  coop,  as  if  they  were 
chickens,  the  greater  part  of  the  human  race,  allaying 
the  discontent  of  the  imprisoned  by  pointing  out  to  them 
that,  although  their  freedom  of  movement  is  limited, 
they  are  growing  fat,  and  that  they  should  show  their 
gratitude  by  laying  eggs. 

Surely,  there  must  be  some  middle  course.  Patience 
and  caution  are  virtues.  Surelj'',  it  is  possible  to  accept 
the  existing  organism  of  society,  to  love  one's  country, 
and  yet  to  strive  to  respect  the  freedom  of  others.  It  is 
not  easy  for  a  true  patriot  to  do  this,  but  it  seems  to  be 
what  the  Rational  Social  Will  demands  of  him. 

The  moralist  who  reads  history'  carefully  is  not  wholly 
discouraged.  He  may  look  forward  to  some  time,  in  the 
more  or  less  distant  future,  when  there  may  be  a  union 
of  the  nations  in  the  interests  of  all  men;  when  the  gross 
egoism  of  the  hypcrtrophied  patriot  may  be  curbed ;  when 
the  mellifluous  language  of  the  statesman  may  mean 
more  than  did  the  pious  letter  which  Nero  wrote  to  the 
Roman  Senate,  after  ho  had  murdered  his  mother. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 
ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES 

165.  Sciences  that  Concern  the  Moralist.  —  There  are 
certain  sciences  that  the  Moralist  must  lay  under  contri- 
bution very  directly,  and  yet  he  seems  to  be  able  to  make 
little  return  to  those  who  cultivate  them,  at  least  in  their 
professional  capacity. 

He  must  ask  aid  from  the  biologist,  the  psychologist, 
the  anthropologist.  They  help  him  to  a  comprehension 
of  what  man  is;  and,  hence,  of  what  it  is  desirable  that 
man  should  strive  to  do.  But  these  men  seldom  come 
to  the  moralist  for  advice.  They  appear  to  be  able  to 
work  without  his  help. 

There  are,  however,  other  sciences  in  which  the  moral- 
ist feels  that  he  has  more  of  a  right  to  meddle,  however 
independent  they  may  regard  themselves. 

Take,  for  example,  politics  or  economics,  or  the  very 
modern  and  rudimentary  science  of  eugenics.  The  man 
who  cultivates  political  science  may  know  much  more 
than  do  most  moralists  about  states  and  their  forms  of 
organization;  about  legislative,  executive  and  judicial 
functions;  about  the  probable  effects  of  the  centralization 
or  decentralization  of  authority;  about  what  may  be 
expected,  in  a  given  case,  from  a  restriction  or  extension 
of  the  franchise;  about  the  creation  and  maintenance  of 
a  military  establishment  and  the  building  up  of  an  ef- 

343 


344<       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

ficient  civil  service.  The  economist  may  be  a  monster 
of  learning  and  a  master  in  ingenuity  on  all  problems 
touching  the  creation  and  distribution  of  wealth. 

But  the  political  scientist  and  the  economist,  however 
able,  share  our  common  humanity.  A  man's  outlook  is 
more  or  less  apt  to  be  bounded  by  the  limits  of  the 
science  of  his  predilection.  The  several  sciences,  broader 
or  more  specialized,  rest,  in  the  minds  of  most  men,  upon 
foundations  which  are  taken  for  granted.  It  is  too  much 
to  expect  that  every  sermon  should  begin  as  far  back  as 
the  Garden  of  Eden.  "  Practical  "  politics  and  economics 
do  not,  as  a  rule,  go  so  far  back. 

The  transition  from  practical  politics  and  economics 
to  ethical  problems  may  be  made  at  any  time.  No  man 
was  shrewder  than  Machiavelli,  and  the  moral  sense  of 
mankind  has  rebelled  against  him  and  made  him  a  by- 
word. A  state,  desirous  of  maintaining  itself,  may 
palpably  violate  in  its  institutions,  inherited  from  the 
past,  a  social  will  grown  more  rational,  more  conscious 
of  its  rights  and  more  articulate.  Then  the  appeal  is 
made  to  right  and  justice  in  other  than  the  traditional 
forms.  It  may,  in  a  given  instance,  be  wrong  to  create 
wealth;  existing  forms  of  its  distribution  may  be  iniqui- 
tous. The  ultimate  arbiter  in  all  such  matters  must  be 
the  Ethical  Man. 

Human  society  is  indefinitely  complex.  Many  spe- 
cialists must  occupy  themselves  with  its  problems.  A 
technical  question  in  this  field  may  always  be  carried 
over  to  moral  ground.  He  who  undertakes  to  make 
this  transition  without  having  made  a  fairly  thorough 
study  of  ethics  appears  to  be  working  in  the  dark.  His 
assumptions  have  been  questioned,  or  have  been  aban- 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES    345 

doned.  ^Yho  shall  furnish  him  with  a  new  basis  for  his 
special  science? 

Ethics  is  a  basal  science.  It  justifies,  or  it  refuses 
to  justify,  those  specialists  who  concern  themselves  with 
men  in  societies.  It  is  a  very  old  science  and  has  inter- 
ested men  vastly.  I  have  spoken  above  of  eugenics  as 
a  new  science.  Only  in  its  modern  form  is  it  new.  Plato 
cultivated  it  intemperately  when  he  wrote  his  "  Re- 
public "  —  but  he  saw  that  his  "  Republic  "  would  not  do, 
and  he  wrote  his  "  Laws."  He  stood  condemned  by 
Ethics. 

Usually  men  who  occupy  themselves  seriously,  and  in 
a  broad  way,  with  man  in  society,  have  adopted,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  some  ethical  doctrine.  But  this 
is  often  done  without  due  consideration,  and  without  a 
sufficient  knowledge  of  what  has  been  said  by  the  great 
thinkers  of  the  past.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  have 
treated  at  such  length  in  this  volume  of  the  schools  of 
the  moralists. 

166.  Ethics  and  Philosophy.  —  It  should  be  observed 
that  in  developing  the  Ethics  of  the  Rational  Social  Will, 
or  the  Ethics  of  Reason  —  the  doctrine  advocated  in  this 
volume  —  I  have  not  depended  upon  a  particular 
philosophy. 

I  see  no  reason  why  a  Realist  or  an  Idealist,  a  Monist 
or  a  Dualist,  one  who  holds  to  an  immediate  perception 
of  an  external  world  or  one  who  regards  our  acquaintance 
with  it  as  a  matter  of  inference,  should  refuse  to  go  with 
me  so  far.  Nor  do  I  see  any  reason  why  a  believer  in 
God,  one  who  bows  at  the  shrine  of  Mind-Stuff,  or  one 
who  refuses  to  commit  himself  at  all  upon  such  matters, 
should  enter  a  demurrer.     The  Parallelist  and  the  Inter- 


346       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

actionist,  however  widely  they  differ  touching  the  relation 
of  mind  and  body,  may  here  fall  upon  one  another's 
necks  and  shed  tears  of  brotherly  affection. 

That  it  is  proper  for  the  philosopher  to  interest  himself 
in  ethics,  I  have  maintained.^  He  is  supposed  to  be  a 
critical  and  reflective  man,  and  to  take  broad  views  of 
human  affairs.  Such  views  are  needed  when  one  comes 
to  the  study  of  ethics. 

I  am  forced  to  admit  that  some  philosophers,  when  they 
have  written  on  ethical  subjects,  have  said  certain  things 
to  which  the  critical  moralist  cannot  readily  assent. 
He  who  maintains  that  certain  human  intuitions  — 
which  it  may  even  appear  impossible  to  reconcile  with 
each  other  —  are  inexplicably  and  infallibly  authorita- 
tive, seems  to  leave  us  without  so  much  as  the  hope  of 
ever  attaining  to  ultimate  rationality.- 

And  there  are  philosophers  who  would  persuade  us 
that,  unless  we  accept  all  the  religious  or  theological 
doctrines  which  have  appeared  to  them  acceptable,  we 
rob  man  of  every  incentive  for  being  moral  at  all.  If 
God  is  not  going  to  repay  him  with  interest  for  the  pains 
which  he  gives  himself,  does  he  not  play  the  part  of  a 
dupe  in  being  good?  We  have  seen  that  this  was  palpably 
the  position  of  Paley.^  If  God  will  not  reconcile,  ulti- 
mately, benevolence  and  self-interest,  proclaimed  Reid, 
man  "  is  reduced  to  this  miserable  dilemma,  whether  it 
is  best  to  be  a  fool  or  a  knave.*    Some  of  the  utterances 

1  See  chapter  vi,  §  18. 

2  See   chapter  xxiii. 

3  Chapter  xxiv,  §  96. 

*  Essays  on  the  Active  Powers  of  Man,  Essay  III,  Fart  III. 
chapter  viii.  It  would  be  ab.surd  to  believe  that  either  Paley 
or  Rei<l  lived  down  to  the  level  of  his  doctrine.  Both  were  very 
decent  men,  and  capable  of  disinterestedness. 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES    347 

of  Kant  and  of  Green  seem  to  point  in  the  same  direction, 
but  both  have  made  it  abundantly  pkiin  that  they,  per- 
sonally, and  whatever  their  intellectual  perplexities,  were 
moved  by  something  much  higher  than  egoism.^ 

I  mean  to  say  very  little  about  philosophy  in  this 
volume.  I  wish  to  keep  to  ethics,  a  science  old  enough 
and  strong  enough  to  stand  upon  its  own  feet.  But  it 
would  be  wrong  not  to  underline  one  or  two  points  in 
this  connection,  if  only  to  obviate  misunderstanding: 

( 1 )  There  is  nothing  wrong  in  a  man's  wishing  to  earn 
the  heaven  in  which  he  believes.  It  is  not  wrong  for 
him  to  wish  to  be  happy  on  earth  and  in  the  body.  But 
if  the  desire  for  his  own  happiness,  either  here  or  here- 
after, is  the  only  motive  that  can  move  him,  he  is  not  a 
good  man.  Prudence  may  be  a  virtue,  generally  speak- 
ing; but  it  is  no  substitute  for  benevolence.  The  man 
who  is  only  prudent  is  no  fit  member  of  any  society  of 
rational  beings  anywhere. 

(2)  i\Ien  are  often  better  than  their  words  would  indi- 
cate. Paley  talks  as  if  he  were  a  cad;  Reid  flounders; 
Kant,  noble  as  are  many  of  his  utterances,  sometimes 
gives  forth  an  uncertain  sound.  Yet  no  one  of  these 
men  was  personally  selfish. 

And  yet  all  of  these  men  assumed  that  morality  is 
endangered  unless  there  is  a  God  to  repay  men  for  being 
good.  "Why  did  they  insist  so  strenuously  upon  this, 
and  incorporate  it  into  their  philosophy?  We  must,  I 
think,  go  beneath  the  surface  to  find  the  real  reason; 
and  when  we  have  discovered  it,  we  cannot  regard  them 
in  an  unfavorable  light. 

They  felt,  I  believe,  that  good  men  ought  to  be  made 

5  See  chapters  xxiv,  §97;  xxvi,  3;  and  xxix. 


348       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

happy;  that  this  is  rational,  if  anything  is.  So  far,  they 
are  quite  in  accord  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Rational 
Social  Will.  And  they  saw  no  other  way  of  guaranteeing 
a  complete  rationality  than  in  holding  to  a  theistic 
philosophy. 

(3)  This  means  that  their  real  motives  were  not  selfish 
and  personal.  This  is  admirably  brought  out  when  we 
turn  to  Green.  It  is  too  much  to  expect  that  many  of 
my  readers  have  read  his  "  Prolegomena  to  Ethics," 
which  is  repetitious,  tedious,  and  rather  vague,  though 
it  is  inspired  by  a  fine  spirit  and  has  the  great  merit  of 
having  influenced,  directly  or  indirectly,  a  number  of 
able  writers  to  produce  excellent  works  on  ethics.^ 

Green  dwells,  with  infinite  repetition,  upon  the  presence 
in  man  "  of  a  principle  not  natural,"  which  is  identical 
in  all  men,,  and  which,  in  some  way  that  he  does  not  ex- 
plain, holds  the  world  of  our  experiences  together,  being 
itself  not  in  time  or  in  space.  The  disciple  of  Paley 
or  Reid  or  Kant  will  search  his  pages  in  vain  for  any 
indication  that  this  "  principle  "  performs  or  can  perform 
any  of  the  functions  of  the  God  believed  in  by  the  above- 
mentioned  philosophers.  Nevertheless,  it  is  the  source 
of  an  ardent  inspiration  to  Green,  who  relieves  the  bald- 
ness of  the  appellation  "  principle,"  by  calling  it,  some- 
times, "  self-consciousness,"  sometimes,  "  reason."  It 
does  not  appear  to  promise  Green  anything,  so  his  devo- 
tion to  it  may  be  regarded  as  disinterested.  However, 
he  owes  to  it  inspiration. 

Philosophers   find  their  inspiration  in  very  different 
directions.     Tlic  philosopher,  as  such,  sometimes  rather 

«  I  need  only  to  refer  to  the  text-books  by  Muirhead,  Mac- 
kenzie, Dewey  and   Fite. 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES     349 

objects  to  the  word,  "  God."  '  But  he  may  feel  much 
as  men  generally  feel  toward  God,  when  he  contemplates 
his  "  Conscious  Principle,"  or  his  "  Idea,"  or  the  "  Sub- 
stance "  which  he  conceives  as  the  identity  of  thought 
and  extension,  or,  for  that  matter,  "  Mind-Stuff "  or 
the  "  Unknowable."  That  other  men  may  not  see  that 
he  has  anything  in  particular  to  be  inspired  about,  or 
that  he  can  hope  for  anything  in  particular  for  himself 
or  for  other  men,  does  not  rob  him  of  his  inspiration, 
and  that  may  affect  his  life  deeply. 

It  is,  hence,  not  a  matter  of  no  importance  to  ethics 
what  manner  of  philosophy  it  pleases  a  man  to  elect. 
One's  outlook  upon  the  great  world  may  repress  or  may 
stimulate  ethical  strivings,  may  narrow  or  may  broaden 
the  ethical  horizon.  It  is  something  to  feel,  even  rather 
blindly,  that  one  has  a  Cause.  For  myself,  I  think  it  is 
better  to  have  a  Cause  that  seems  worth  while,  even 
when  rather  impartially  looked  at.  But,  of  this,  more 
in  the  next  section. 

(4)  Whatever  one  thinks  of  such  matters,  it  is  well 
to  come  back  to  the  fact  that,  nevertheless,  ethics  stands 
upon  its  own  feet.  Even  if  Paley,  and  Reid,  and  Kant, 
and  Green,  and  many  others,  are  in  the  wrong,  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Rational  Social  Will  stands  sure.  It  is  wrong 
to  be  selfish;  it  is  wrong  to  be  untruthful;  it  is  wrong 
to  be  unjust.  It  is  wrong  for  individuals,  and  it  is 
wrong  for  nations.  The  man,  or  the  group  of  men,  that 
does  wrong,  is  irrational.    It  stands  condemned. 

167.  Ethics  and  Religion.  —  I  regret  having  to  speak, 
in  this  book,  about  religion  at  all,  just  as  I  regret  hav- 
ing to  refer  to  the  philosophers.    But  it  would  be  folly 

^  See  chapter  xxvi,  §  123,  note. 


350       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

to  omit  all  reference  to  religious  duties.  They  have 
played  quite  too  important  a  part  in  the  life  of  the 
family,  of  the  tribe,  of  the  state;  and  that  not  merely 
here  and  there,  but  everywhere,  in  societies  of  all  de- 
grees of  development,  in  recent  centuries  and  in  times 
of  a  hoary  antiquity.  Those  interested  in  the  classics 
have  read  the  remarkable  little  book,  "  The  Ancient 
City,"  by  Fustel  de  Coulanges.  As  schoolboys  we  were 
brought  up  on  the  pious  Aeneas.  All  Christians  have 
some  knowledge  of  the  theocratic  state  of  the  Hebrews, 
and  we  know  something  of  the  history  of  Christian 
Europe.  The  anthropologist  gives  us  masses  of  informa- 
tion touching  the  religious  duties  of  all  sorts  and  con- 
ditions of  men. 

There  are  those  who  rid  themselves  easily  of  the 
problem  of  religious  duties.  They  simply  deny  that 
there  are  any.  And  there  are  those  —  the  classes  over- 
lap —  who  easily  shuffle  ofT  duties  to  the  family  and  to 
the  state.  They  regard  it  as  their  function  to  ignore 
and  to  destroy. 

(1)  I  cannot  think  the  matter  is  so  simple.  There 
always  have  been  religious  duties  generally  recognized, 
as  a  matter  of  fact.  The  boldest  and  most  gifted  of 
thinkers,  who  have  not  hesitated  to  call  into  being 
Utopian  schemes  for  an  ideal  state,  such  men  as  Plato 
and  More,  have  thought  that  the  ideal  state  must  have 
a  religion.  And  the  modern  scientist  has  gravely  raised 
the  question  whether  the  state  can  maintain  itself,  if 
all  religious  beliefs,  with  their  inspirations  and  their 
restraints,  die  out.* 

The    moralist,   who    accepts    religious    duties,   has   a 

8  McDouOALL,  Social  Psychology,  chapter  xiii. 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES     351 

difficult  task.  It  is  not  enough  for  him  to  say  that  men 
have  religious  duties  "  in  general,"  just  as  it  is  not  enough 
for  him  to  say  that  they  have  political  duties  "  in 
general."  On  the  other  hand  it  would  be  the  height  of 
presumption  for  him  to  endeavor  to  tell  every  man  what 
he  should  do  in  detail.  He  does  not  feel  it  his  duty  to 
tell  every  man  whom  he  should  marry,  or  for  whom  he 
should  vote  at  each  election.  Still,  it  does  seem  as 
though  the  moralist  ought  to  do  more  than  tell  a  man 
vaguely  that  he  has  religious  duties. 

(2)  Why  not  follow  the  analogy  suggested  by  duties 
to  the  family,  the  neighborhood,  the  state? 

States  have  their  religions,  sometimes  unequivocally 
and  unmistakably,  and  sometimes  not  so  palpably.  The 
religion  of  a  people  has,  as  a  rule,  its  roots  far  back  in 
the  history  of  that  people.  Its  religion  has  influenced 
in  many  subtle  ways  its  institutions,  its  emotions,  its 
habits,  its  whole  outlook  upon  life. 

Even  where,  as  with  us,  state  and  church  have  been, 
in  theory,  wholly  sundered,  there  has  been  no  question, 
up  to  the  present,  of  the  disappearance  of  a  religion. 
The  United  vStates  has  been  regarded  as  a  Christian 
nation,  inspired  by  ideals  and  addicted  to  customs  only 
explicable  by  a  Christian  past. 

The  fact  that  it  is  so  is  somewhat  obscured  to  us.  For 
this  there  are  two  causes.  The  first  is,  that  the  Ameri- 
can, who  is  a  freeman,  possesses  and  exercises  a  fatal 
ingenuity  in  the  creation  of  a  multitude  of  sects  out  of 
practically  nothing.  Still,  most  of  these  sects  have  more 
in  common  than  some  of  their  adherents  suppose.  They 
spring,  as  a  rule,  from  a  Christian  root.  The  second  is, 
that  our  land  has  been  the  goal  of  the  greatest  migration 


352       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

ever  recorded  in  human  history.  Most  of  those  who 
have  come  to  us  have,  so  far,  come  from  nations  in  some 
sense  Christian,  but  they  have  brought  with  them  very 
diverse  traditions,  and  some  appear  to  object  to  tra- 
ditions altogether. 

Nevertheless,  I  think  we  may  be  called  a  Christian 
nation,  and  if  we  follow  the  analogy  above  suggested  — 
that  of  the  relations  of  men  to  the  state  and  to  lesser 
organisms  within  the  state  —  it  would  appear  that  it 
is  the  duty  of  an  American  to  recognize  himself  as  a 
Christian  rather  than  as  a  Mahometan  or  a  Pagan.  If  he 
does  recognize  this,  he  will  feel  himself  under  certain 
obligations  which  are  independent  of  his  personal  tastes 
and  proclivities. 

(3)  For  one  thing,  he  will  recognize  that  a  religion 
is  not  a  thing  to  be  stripped  off  and  drawn  on  as  one 
changes  a  suit  of  clothes. 

A  woman  may  regret  that  her  infant  has  red  hair. 
She  will  not,  on  that  account,  as  a  rule,  exchange  him 
surreptitiously  for  another.  Men  do  not  commonly 
repudiate  their  fathers  because  they  are  not  rich  or 
are  growing  old.  A  good  citizen  may  regret  that  his 
country  has  seen  fit  to  enter  into  a  given  war,  but  he 
will  not,  therefore,  give  aid  or  comfort  to  the  enemy. 

He  who  is  capable  of  lightly  repudiating  his  religion 
resembles  the  man  who  is  capable  of  discarding  his  wife, 
when  he  sees  the  first  grey  hair.  Those  who  do  such 
things  are  apt  to  be  men  who  fill  their  whole  field  of 
vision  with  their  rights,  and  can  find  no  place  there 
for  their  duties.  Nor  should  it  be  overlooked  that  the 
man,  who  is  capable  of  lightly  discarding  his  wife,  is 
the  man  as  capable  of  supplying  her  place  with  a  worse. 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES     353 

Even  so,  he  who  easily  throws  off  his  religion  is  usually 
the  man  who  easily  replaces  it  with  some  superstition, 
scientific  or  merely  whimsical,  at  which  other  men 
wonder. 

Men  lament  sometimes  over  the  fact  that  the  task  of 
the  foreign  missionary  is  a  hard  one.  Were  it  really  an 
easy  one,  there  would  be  no  stability  in  human  societies, 
for  there  would  be  no  stability  in  human  nature.  The 
man  of  light  credulity  is  the  man  who  easily  takes  on 
new  faiths;  not  the  man  to  whom  tradition  and  loyalty 
mean  something. 

(4)  It  seems  to  follow,  as  a  corollary,  that  the  religion 
in  which  a  man  has  been  brought  up  has  the  first  claim 
upon  him.     I  accept  this  without  hesitation. 

But  this  does  not  mean  that  the  claim  is  in  all  cases 
final  and  valid. 

There  may  be  cases  in  which  it  seems  to  be  the  duty 
of  a  man  to  leave  his  wife,  to  disinherit  a  child,  to 
transfer  his  allegiance  from  one  state  to  another.  Such 
cases  are  recognized  as  justifiable  by  men  who  are 
thoughtful  and  disinterested.  But  the  same  men  also 
recognize  that,  were  such  disruptions  of  the  bonds  which 
unite  men  in  communities  the  rule  and  not  the  exception, 
it  would  mean  the  destruction  of  the  community. 
Similarly,  it  may  become  the  duty  of  a  man  to  transfer 
his  allegiance  from  one  church  to  another. 

Are  not  religions,  rationally  compared,  of  different 
values?  Have  there  not  been  religions  indisputably  on 
a  moral  level  lower  than  that  of  the  community  which 
tliey  represent?    Undoubtedly. 

And  there  have  been  governments  so  bad  that  the 
only  refuge  has  seemed  to  lie  in  revolution.     It  should  be 


354       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

remembered,  however,  that  revolutions  can  be  resorted  to 
too  Hghtly ;  and  that  evolution,  where  possible,  is  prefer- 
able to  revolution,  whether  in  things  secular  or  in  things 
religious.  It  is  always  easier  to  tear  down  than  it  is 
to  build  up.  Nor  does  anyone,  save  the  anarchist,  tear 
down  through  wanton  love  of  destruction.  Even  he  is 
apt  to  feel  called  upon  to  give  some  sort  of  a  vague 
excuse  for  his  violence. 

It  will  be  observed  that  I  have  all  along  spoken,  not 
merely  of  religion,  but  of  the  Church.  I  have  done  this 
because  religion  is  a  social  phenomenon.  It  has  its 
institutions,  and  cannot  live  without  them. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  individual  philosophers  have 
evolved  religious  philosophies;  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
solitary  individuals,  as  such,  have  felt  religious  emotions. 
How  much  of  this  is  due  to  the  fact  that  there  have  been 
religions  and  churches,  I  do  not  believe  that  they 
themselves  have  realized. 

But,  if  religion  is  to  be  a  vital  force  of  any  sort  in  a 
state,  holding  up  ideals  and  stimulating  the  emotion  that 
helps  to  realize  them,  it  must  be  incorporated  in  an 
institution  or  in  institutions.  You  cannot  remove  the 
rose  and  keep  the  perfume.  Even  the  memory  of  it 
tends  to  vanish.  A  religious  man  without  a  church  is 
like  a  citizen  without  a  state.  A  citizen  without  a  state 
is  a  man  who  makes  the  effort  to  keep  step,  and  to 
walk  in  single  file,  all  alone. 

(5)  Having  said  so  much  for  Religion  and  for  the 
Church,  it  is  right  that  I  should  refer  to  some  things 
that  may  be  said  on  the  other  side. 

It  may  be  claimed  that  men  of  science  have  a  tendency 
to  turn  away  from  religion  and  to  grow  indifferent  to  or 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES     355 

to  deny  religious  duties.  In  this  there  is  some  truth, 
although  notable  exceptions  to  the  rule  may  be  cited. 

But  I  have  known  many  men  of  learning  in  two  hemi- 
spheres, in  some  cases  rather  intimately.  With  the  utmost 
respect  for  their  learning  and  for  their  mental  ability, 
I  am  still  bound  to  say  that  I  have  found  them  quite 
human.  Some  of  them  —  among  the  greatest  of  them  — 
have  been  so  absorbed  in  their  special  fields  of  investiga- 
tion, that  they  have  not  merely  given  scant  attention 
to  religion  and  to  religious  duties,  but  have  done  scant 
justice  even  to  their  own  family  life  or  to  the  state. 
And  all  have  not  been  equally  broad  men,  capable  of 
seeing  clearly  the  part  which  religion  has  played  in  the 
life  of  humanity. 

To  this  I  must  add  that  the  impartial  objectivity  with 
which  the  scholar  is  supposed  by  the  layman  to  view 
things  is  something  of  a  chimera.  In  saying  this  I 
criticize  no  one  more  severely  than  I  criticize  myself. 
This  may  be  taken  as  my  apology  for  the  utterance. 
Have  we  not  seen,  not  many  years  since,  that,  in  the 
feeling  aroused  by  an  international  conflict,  some  scores 
of  great  scholars  on  the  one  side  found  it  possible  to 
write  and  to  sign  a  series  of  statements  diametrically 
opposed  to  a  series  drawn  up  and  signed  by  some  scores 
of  equally  famous  scholars  on  the  other?  Was  either 
group  walled  in  hopelessly  by  sheer  ignorance?  It  is 
easy  to  take  lightly  matters  about  which  one  docs  not 
particularly  care. 

There  is  another  objection  brought  against  religion 
and  the  church  which  seems  to  be  more  significant. 
Is  there  not  a  danger  that  an  interest  in  these  may 
hamper  freedom  of  thought  and  encourage  an  undue 
conservatism? 


356       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

It  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  religion  and  the  church 
are  not  the  only  forces  that  make  for  conservatism. 
Family  affection  is  conservative;  the  law  is  conservatism 
itself,  and  men  feel  that  it  should  not  be  lightly  tampered 
with.  How  impartial  and  how  ready  to  introduce 
innovations  should  men  be  in  any  field?  Changes  of 
certain  kinds,  though  they  may  have  no  little  bearing 
upon  our  comfort,  do  not  threaten  the  existence  of  either 
state  or  church.  Could  someone  devise  a  scheme  by 
which  the  periodical  visits  of  the  plumber  could  be 
avoided,  we  should  all  welcome  it,  and  have  no  fear  of 
the  consequences. 

Other  innovations  may  bring  in  their  train  conse- 
quences more  momentous.  What  men  deeply  care  about, 
they  cling  to,  and  the  question  which  confronts  us  is  a 
very  broad  one.  Does  humanity,  on  the  whole,  gain 
or  lose  by  a  given  degree  of  conservatism?  An  increase 
of  knowledge  is  by  no  means  the  only  thing  that  makes 
for  civilization.  Men  may  be  highly  enlightened,  and 
yet  rotten  to  the  very  core.  How  much  of  the  ballast  of 
conservatism  and  of  loyalty  to  tradition  is  it  well  to 
throw  overboard  in  the  interest  of  accelerated  motion? 
Those  who,  in  our  judgment,  throw  overboard  much  too 
much  we  have  taken  to  deporting. 

(6)  Here  it  will  very  likely  be  objected:  In  all  this 
you  are  advocating  sheer  Pragmatism !  Are  we  to  accept 
God  and  look  for  a  life  to  come,  extending  the  spread 
of  the  community  after  the  fashion  suggested  in  Chapter 
XIX,  and  broadening  the  outlook  for  a  future  and  more 
perfect  rationality,  for  no  better  reason  than  that  it  is 
our  whim?  Shall  we  believe  and  join  ourselves  with 
other  believers,  for  no  better  reason  than  that  something 
happens  to  tempt  our  will? 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES     357 

I  beg  the  reader,  if  he  will  be  just  to  my  thought,  to 
follow  me  here  with  close  attention. 

168.  Ethics  and  Belief.  —  Under  this  heading  I  must 
call  attention  to  several  points. 

(1)  I  deny  that  I  advocate  Pragmatism  at  all.  The 
views  which  I  ad"\'ocate  are  so  many  thousand  years 
older  than  Pragmatism,  that  it  seems  unjust  to  them,  at 
this  late  date,  to  compel  them  to  take  on  a  new  name, 
and  to  be  carried  about  in  swaddling  clothes  in  the  arms 
of  the  philosophers,  after  they  have  been  functioning  as 
adults  in  human  communities  from  time  immemorial. 

(a)  That  abounding  genius  and  most  lovable  man, 
William  James,  realizing,  as  many  lesser  men  did  not 
realize,  that  the  truth  contained  in  such  views  was  in 
danger  of  being  lost  sight  of  by  many,  wrote,  with 
characteristic  vivacity  and  unerring  dramatic  instinct, 
the  little  volume  called  "  Pragmatism."  It  is  with  no 
lack  of  appreciation  of  the  services  he  has  rendered,  that 
I  venture  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  he  has,  in 
certain  respects,  failed  to  do  justice  to  those  views. 

(b)  Pragmatism  has  received  attention  partly  on 
account  of  the  exaggerations  of  which  it  has  been  guilty. 
These  have  repelled  some  men  of  sober  mind.  It  appears 
to  be  maintained  that  we  can  play  fast  and  loose  with 
the  world,  and  make  it  w^hat  we  will.  I  have  criticized 
this  elsewhere,^  and  shall  not  do  so  now.  I  shall  only  say 
here  that  I  do  not  believe  that  so  able  a  man  of  science 
as  William  James  meant  all  that  he  said  to  be  taken  quite 
literally.  He  was  gifted  with  a  sense  of  humor.  This, 
some  lack. 

(c)  Men  of  genius  are  apt  to  be  strongly  individual- 

9  The  World  We  Live  In,  chapter  vi. 


358       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

istic  and  impatient  of  restraints.  We  have  seen  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  public  conscience  and  a  private 
conscience.  The  latter  is  only  too  often  a  whimsical 
thing.  Pragmatism  appears  to  teach  that  any  indi- 
vidual, as  such,  has  a  moral  right  to  adopt  any  hypoth- 
esis live  enough  to  appeal  to  his  individual  will.  One 
has  only  to  call  to  mind  the  extraordinary  assortment 
of  guests  collected  by  Signor  Papini  in  his  novel  prag- 
matic "  hotel."  ^°  Can  such,  by  any  human  ingenuity, 
be  moulded  into  anything  resembling  an  orderly 
community? 

(d)  In  a  later  work.  Professor  James,  realizing  that 
religion  and  theology  are  not  identical,  and  strongly 
desirous  of  promoting  religion,  deals  severely  with  the- 
ology and  the  theologians.^^ 

One  truth  has  been  seen,  but  has  not  another  been 
treated  with  some  injustice?  Is  it  not  inevitable  that 
reflective  men,  who  cherish  beliefs,  should  endeavor  to 
give  a  more  or  less  clear  and  reasoned  account  of  them? 
What  degree  of  success  is  to  be  looked  for,  and  what 
emphasis  should  be  laid  upon  such  attempts,  are 
questions  which  will  probably  divide  men  for  a  long 
time  to  come. 

(2)  Hence,  I  do  not  advocate  Pragmatism  at  all,  but 
I  agree  with  it  in  so  far,  at  least,  as  to  recognize  that 
belief  is  a  phenomenon  which  concerns  the  will.  That 
it  is  so  is  a  commonplace  of  psychology;  and  it  was 
recognized  dimly  long  before  the  psychologist,  as  such, 
came  into  being. 

That  it  is  so  is  rather  readily  overlooked  where  the 

10  Ibid. 

^^  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  Lecture  xviii. 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES     359 

evidence  for  certain  beliefs  is  undeniable  and  overpower- 
ing. I  seem  forced  to  believe  that  I  am  now  writing. 
I  do  not  seem  forced  in  a  similar  manner  to  accept  a 
particular  metaphysical  doctrine  or  a  given  system  of 
theological  dogma.  Intelligent  men  appear  to  be  able 
to  discuss  such  matters  with  each  other  and  to  agree  to 
disagree.  If  they  are  tolerant,  they  can  do  this  good- 
temperedly.  It  is  worth  while  to  keep  several  points 
clearly  in  mind: 

(a)  Beliefs  are  not  a  matter  of  indifference.  Some 
evidently  lead  to  palpable  and  speedy  disaster.  If  I 
elect  to  believe  that  I  can  fly,  and  leave  my  window-sill 
as  lightly  as  does  the  sparrow  I  now  see  there,  it  is 
time  for  my  friends  to  provide  me  with  an  attendant. 

Other  beliefs  are  not  of  this  character.  And  that  they 
will  lead  to  ultimate  disaster  of  any  sort  to  myself  or 
to  others  seems  highly  disputable. 

(5)  What  may  be  called  scientific  evidence  may  be 
adduced  for  different  beliefs  with  varying  degrees  of 
cogency.  Hegel  tries  to  distinguish  between  the  au- 
thority of  the  state  and  that  of  the  church  by  attributing 
to  the  former  something  like  infallibility.  He  maintains 
that  religion  "  believes,"  but  that  the  state  "  knows."  ^- 

We  have  had  abundant  reason  to  see  that  the  state 
does  not  know,  but  believes,  and  that  it  is  very  often 
mistaken  in  its  beliefs.  Nevertheless,  it  does  its  best  to 
keep  order,  to  be  as  rational  as  it  can,  and  to  look  a  little 
way  ahead.  I  think  it  ought  to  be  admitted  that  it  con- 
cerns itself  with  matters  more  terre-a-terre  than  does 
the  church ;  and  that  it  ought  not  to  be  taken  as  a  general 
truth  that  the  state  should  take  its  orders   from  the 

1-  The  Philosophy  of  Right,  §270. 


360       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

church.  It  has  to  do  with  matters  which,  like  our  daily 
bread,  must  be  assured,  if  certain  other  matters  are  to 
be  considered  at  all.  In  so  far  Hegel  was  right.  There 
are  those  who  forget  this,  and  talk  as  if  metaphysical 
systems  and  religious  beliefs  should  be  forced  upon  men 
in  spite  of  themselves,  either  by  sheer  force  of  wind- 
power  or  with  the  aid  of  the  police. 

To  this  it  may  be  added  that  beliefs  range  from  an 
unshakable  and  unthinking  conviction  to  that  degree  of 
acquiescence  which  can  scarcely  be  distinguished  from 
mere  loyalty.  It  remains  to  be  proved  that  the  latter 
may  not  come  under  the  head  of  belief,  and  is  something 
to  be  condemned.^^ 

(c)  Beliefs,  being  phenomena  which  concern  the  will, 
are  at  the  mercy  of  many  influences.  Is  there  any 
scientific  evidence  open  to  the  parallelist  in  psychology 
which  is  not  also  open  to  the  interactionist?  Is  the 
conviction  that  one's  country  is  in  the  right  a  mere  matter 
of  scientific  evidence?  Are  the  enlightened  adherents 
of  a  given  sect  wholly  ignorant  of  the  tenets  and  of  the 
arguments  of  another? 

I  maintain  that  tradition  and  loyalty  have  their  claims. 
They  are  not  the  only  claims  that  can  be  made,  but  they 
are  worthy  of  serious  consideration.  Man  is  man, 
whether  he  is  dealing  with  things  secular  or  with  things 
religious. 

'3  More  than  thirty  years  ago,  while  I  was  the  guest  of  Henry 
Sidpwick  at  Cambridge,  England,  I  asked  him  how  it  was  that 
he,  the  President  of  the  British  Society  for  Psychical  Research, 
had  never,  in  his  presidential  addresses,  expressed  a  belief  in 
the  phenomena  investigated.  He  answered  that  if  the  word 
"  belief  "  were  taken  broadly  enough  to  express  a  willingness  to 
look  into  things,  he  might  be  said  to  believe.  No  more  candid 
soul  ever  breathed. 


ETHICS    AND    OTHER    DISCIPLINES    361 

To  see  that  such  claims  are  recognized  everywhere 
we  have  only  to  open  our  eyes.  It  is  absurd  to  believe 
that  all  the  adherents  of  a  political  party  are  influenced 
only  by  the  logical  arguments  published  in  the  news- 
papers. A  newspaper  that  lived  on  logic  alone  would 
starve  to  death.  It  is  ridiculous  to  believe  that  all  the 
members  of  a  church  are  induced  to  become  such  only  by 
the  arguments  of  the  theologians,  many  of  which  argu- 
ments the  mass  of  the  members  are  not  in  a  position  to 
comprehend  at  all. 

And  learned  men  are  men,  too.  The  philosopher  who 
really  kept  himself  free  from  all  prepossessions  would, 
if  he  did  much  serious  reading,  probably  epitomize  in  his 
own  person  a  large  part  of  the  history  of  philosophy, 
falling  out  of  one  system  and  into  another,  like  an  acro- 
bat. But  he  is  usually  caught  young  and  influenced  by 
some  teacher,  or  he  is  carried  away  by  some  book  or  by 
the  spirit  of  the  times.  As  he  is  not  an  abnormal 
creature,  he  acts  like  other  men,  becoming  an  adherent 
of  a  school,  or,  if  he  is  ambitious,  starting  one. 

(d)  We  have  seen  that  the  individual  has  duties 
toward  the  state.  We  have  also  seen  that  the  state 
has  duties  toward  the  individual.  The  state  should 
not  make  it  practically  impossible  for  him  to  be  a  loyal 
citizen.  A  somewhat  similar  duty  appears  to  be 
incumbent  upon  the  church. 

A  church  that  forces  upon  all  of  its  members,  as  a 
condition  of  membership,  intricate  and  abstract  systems 
of  metaphysics;  a  church  that  does  not  teach  good-will 
toward  men,  but  makes  walls  of  separation  out  of  slight 
differences  of  opinion;  a  church  that  lags  behind  the 
moral  sense  of  the  community  in  which  it  finds  itself; 


362       THE    ETHICS    OF    THE    SOCIAL    WILL 

a  church  that  starves  the  religious  life;  these,  and  such 
as  these,  must  expect  to  lose  adherents.  It  is  not  that 
men  reject  them;  it  is  that  they  reject  men. 

Those  who  read  history  have  no  reason  to  think  that 
men,  except  here  and  there  and  under  exceptional  circum- 
stances, will  cease  to  regard  religious  duties  as  duties. 
I  have  not  ventured  to  offer  any  detailed  solution  of  the 
problem  of  loyalty  to  the  church.  But  neither  have 
I  ventured  to  offer  any  detailed  solution  of  the  problem  of 
loyalty  to  the  state.  In  the  one  case,  as  in  the  other,  I 
suggest  as  guides  tradition,  intuition  and  reflective 
reasoning.  I  can  only  counsel  good  sense  and  some 
degree  of  patience.  It  may  be  said:  You  do  not  solve 
the  difficulty  for  the  individual.  I  admit  it.  Such  dif- 
ficulties every  thinking  man  must  meet  and  solve  for 
himself. 

169.  The  Last  Word.  —  Those  persons,  whether  stu- 
dents, or  teachers,  who  dislike  this  final  chapter,  may 
omit  it,  without  detriment  to  the  rest  of  the  book.  The 
doctrine  of  the  Rational  Social  Will  is  not  founded  upon 
this  chapter.     The  latter  is  a  mere  appendix. 

I  regret  that,  in  a  work  in  which  I  have  wished  to 
avoid  disputation,  I  have  felt  compelled  to  touch  upon 
religious  duties  at  all.  But  they  have  played,  and  still 
play,  so  significant  a  role  in  the  history  of  mankind, 
that  the  omission  could  scarcely  have  been  made.  You 
are  free  to  take  them  or  leave  them;  but  you  are  not 
free  to  take  or  leave  the  Rational  Social  Will  as  the 
Moral  Arbiter  of  the  Destinies  of  Man. 


NOTES 

1.  Chapters  I  to  III.  —  The  notes  in  a  book  of  any  sort  are 
rarely  read,  except  by  a  few  specialists,  and  by  them  not  seldom 
with  a  view  to  refuting  the  author.  I  shall  make  the  following  as 
brief  as  I  may.  But  I  do  wish  to  give  some  of  my  readers  —  all 
will  not  be  equally  learned  —  an  opportunity^  to  get  acquainted 
with  a  few  books  better  than  this  one.  This  first  note  is  not 
addressed  to  the  learned,  and  some  will  find  it  superfluous, 

I  intend  to  mention  here  a  handful  of  books  which  any  culti- 
vated man  may  read  with  profit,  and  re-read  with  profit,  if  he 
has  already  read  them.  They  can  be  collected  gradually  at  a 
relatively  slight  expense,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  have  them  in 
one's  librar>\  The  list  may  easily  be  bettered,  and  may  be 
indefinitely  lengthened.  I  mention  onlj'  books  for  those  who 
are  accustomed  to  do  their  reading  in  English. 

It  is  hardly  necessar^^  to  say  that  I  do  not  advise  all  this 
reading  in  connection  with  the  first  three  chapters  of  this  book. 
But,  as  those  chapters  are  concerned  with  the  accepted  content 
of  morals  as  recognized  by  individuals  and  communities,  I  have 
a  good  excuse  for  bringing  the  Hst  in  here.  Many  other  good 
books,  not  in  the  list,  are  referred  to  later  in  the  volume,  in 
other  chapters. 

It  is  very  convenient  to  have  within  one's  reach  some  such 
book  as  Sidgwick's  History  oj  Ethics.  The  only  fault  to  find 
with  Sidgwick  is  that  he  has  made  his  book  too  short,  and  has 
not  given  enough  references.  But  he  is  admirably  fair  and 
sympathetic,  as  well  as  clear  and  interesting. 

He,  who  would  dip  more  deeply  into  the  Greek  moralists,  can 
read  the  accounts  of  the  ancient  egoists,  Aristippus  and  Epicurus, 
in  the  Lives  of  the  Philosophers  by  that  entertaining  old  gossip, 
Diogenes  Laertius.  The  translation  in  Bohn's  edition  will  serve 
the  purpose. 

As  for  the  greatest  of  the  Greeks — a  keen  pleasure,  intellect- 
ual and  aesthetic,  awaits  the  man  who  turns  to  Plato's  Republic 

363 


364  NOTES 

and  his  Laws.  Jowett's  great  translation  is  in  every  public 
libraiy.  And  we  must  read  Aristotle's  Nichomachean  Ethics  and 
his  Politics.  Here  little  attention  is  given  to  artistic  form;  but 
the  preternatural  acuteness  of  the  man  is  overpowering.  If  we 
would  understand  some  of  the  reasons  which  induced  Plato 
and  Aristotle  to  write  of  the  state  as  they  did,  we  can  turn 
to  chapter  xiv  of  Grote's  Aristotle. 

With  certain  later  classical  moralists  most  of  us  are  more 
or  less  familiar.  Seneca,  in  his  work  On  Benefits,  gives  a  good 
picture  of  the  moral  emotions  and  judgments  of  an  enlightened 
man  of  his  time.  He  was  a  great  favorite  with  Christian 
writers  later.  Cicero's  work,  De  Officiis  —  On  Duties —  it  is  best 
known  under  the  Latin  title,  is  very  clear  and  very  clever.  It 
is,  in  its  last  half,  full  of  "  cases  of  conscience."  I  venture  to 
suggest  to  the  teacher  of  undergraduates  who  find  ethics  a  dry 
subject,  that  he  give  them  a  handful  of  Cicero's  "  cases "  to 
quarrel  over.  Doing  just  this  has  brought  about  something 
resembling  civil  war  in  certain  classes  of  my  undergraduates.  It 
has  done  them  good,  and  it  has  vastly  entertained  me.  But 
each  teacher  must  follow  his  own  methods.  We  can  none  of 
us  dictate. 

How  many  of  us  have  drawn  inspiration  from  the  noble  reflec- 
tions contained  in  the  Thoughts  of  Marcus  Aurelius  and  in  the 
Discourses  of  Epictetus,  those  great  Stoics!  The  unadorned 
translations  of  George  Long  will  serv-e  to  introduce  us  to  these. 

To  get  a  good  idea  of  how  the  moral  world  revealed  itself  to  a 
Father  of  the  Church  in  the  fifth  century,  we  have  only  to  turn 
to  that  most  fascinating  of  autobiographies,  the  Confessions  of 
St.  Augustine.  His  City  of  God  is  too  long,  though  interesting. 
Augustine's  thought  influenced  the  world  for  centuries.  Then  we 
may  take  a  long  jump  and  come  down  to  St.  Thomas,  the  great 
Scholastic  of  the  thirteenth  century'.  To  get  acquainted  with 
him,  we  may  turn  to  the  Engli-sh  versions  by  Rickaby,  Aquinas 
Ethirus.  Those  of  us  who  are  smugly  satisfied  at  belonging  to 
the  twentieth  century  must  remind  ourselves  that  there  were 
great  men  in  the  thirteenth,  and  that  many  among  our  con- 
temporaries are  still  listening  to  them.  We  Protestant  teachers 
of  philosophy  are  sometimes  in  danger  of  forgetting  this.  A 
strictly  fresh  century  and  a  strictly  fresh  egg  cannot  claim  to  be 
precisely  on  a  par. 

I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  add  the  modem  moralists  to  this 


NOTES  365 

list.  There  are  a  great  many  of  them,  and  many  of  them  are 
veiy  good.  But  they  are  discussed  at  length  in  Part  VII,  which 
deals  with  the  schools  of  the  moralists.  Citations  and  references 
are  there  given.  I  think,  however,  that  I  ought  to  add  here  that 
I  should  regard  an  ethical  collection  incomplete  that  did  not 
include  at  least  one  of  the  comprehensive  works  on  morals  lately 
offered  us  by  certain  sociologists.  Westermarck's  wonderful  book 
—  a  mine  of  information  —  on  The  Origin  and  Development  of 
the  Moral  Ideas,  or  the  admirable  book  by  Hobhouse,  Morals  in 
Evolution,  will  serve  to  fill  the  gap. 

Information  regarding  editions  of  all  the  books  I  have  men- 
tioned can  be  had  in  most  public  libraries,  or  from  any  good 
publisher  and  book-seller. 

As  for  the  reading  to  accompany  these  Chapters,  I-III,  I  sug- 
gest looking  over  the  chapters  by  Westermarck  and  Hobhouse, 
indicated  in  foot-notes.  He  who  would  realize  how  men  have 
differed  in  their  moral  outlook  on  life  might  read  the  lives  of 
Aristippus,  Epicurus  and  Zeno,  in  Diogenes  Laertius;  or  follow 
the  account,  in  Sidgwick's  History  oj  Ethics,  of  Aristotle's  teach- 
ing, as  compared  with  the  ethics  of  the  Church. 

2.  Chapters  IV  to  VII.  —  These  chapters  on  ethics  as  science 
and  on  ethical  method  do  not  appear  to  me  to  call  for  extensive 
notes.  Several  foot-notes  are  given  which  might  be  followed  up. 
I  think  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing  for  the  student  to  read 
chapters  i  and  vi  in  Sidg%vick's  admirable  work.  The  Methods  of 
Ethics. 

3.  Chapters  VIII  to  X.  —  To  undertake  to  give  any  adequate 
list  of  references  on  the  chapters  which  treat  of  man's  nature 
and  of  his  material  and  social  environment  would  take  us  quite 
too  far  afield.  I  merely  suggest  looking  up  the  articles  on 
"  Anthropology  "  and  "  Sociology  "  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britan- 
nica.  References  are  given  there.  And  one  should  not  overlook 
Darwin's  great  book  on  The  Descent  of  Man.  It  will  never  be 
rendered  superfluous,  although  the  men  of  our  day  criticize  it 
in  detail.  A  recent  work  of  value  is  "  Heredity  and  Environ- 
ment in  the  Development  of  Men,"  by  Professor  Edwin  Grant 
Conklin,  1918. 

4.  Chapters  XI  to  XVI.  —  Here  my  notes  must  be  somewhat 
more  detailed,  for  we  are  on  quite  debatable  ground.  At  any  rate, 
there  is  much  dispute,  between  men  of  unquestionable  ability, 
on  the  one  side  and  on  the  other.    I  may  be  pardoned  for  thinking 


366  NOTES 

that  the  general  argument  of  these  chapters  is  reasonable  and 
sound. 

In  commenting  upon  Chapter  XI,  I  suggest  that  the  reader 
look  up  what  Hobhouse  has  to  say  on  impulse,  desire  and  will, 
in  his  volume.  Morals  in  Evolution;  also  that  he  consult  the 
same  topics  in  James'  Psychology.  McDougall's  Social  Psychol- 
ogy might  be  read  with  much  profit. 

Some  admirable  writers  have  a  repugnance  to  using  the  word 
"  volition "  in  speaking  of  the  brutes.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
that  this  is  a  dispute  touching  the  proper  use  of  a  word,  rather 
than  that  any  important  distinction  in  kind  is  marked.  Some 
human  volitions  stand  out  ver\'  clearly  as  such.  There  are  free 
ideas  present,  there  is  the  tension  of  desires,  there  is  delibera- 
tion, and  there  is  clearly  conscious  choice,  or  the  final  release  of 
tension.  But  how  many  of  the  decisions  —  I  see  no  objection 
to  the  word,  —  which  we  make  during  the  course  of  a  day,  are 
of  this  character!  It  would  be  difficult  to  set  a  lower  limit  to 
volition. 

Muirhead,  who  writes,  in  his  Elements  oj  Ethics,  clearlj'  and 
well  of  desires,  emphasizing  the  presence  of  "  tensions,"  follows 
the  Neo-Hegelian  tradition  in  speaking  of  will.  He  describes  it 
as  the  act  by  which  the  attention  is  concentrated  upon  one  object 
of  desire,  and  he  calls  the  act  of  choice  the  identifying  oj  oneself 
with  one  object  or  line  of  action. 

Naturally,  it  is  not  easy  to  think  of  the  bee  or  the  ant  or  the 
spider,  perhaps  not  even  of  the  cat  or  dog,  as  ''  identifying  itself  " 
with  some  object  of  desire.  I  suggest  that  the  reader,  after  a 
perusal  of  Muirhead.  reflect  upon  what  Hobhouse  has  to  say  of 
the  lower  animals;  or  that  he  look  up  Miss  Washburn's  book  on 
The  Animal  Mind,  (second  edition,  1918),  where  a  really  serious 
study  of  the  brute  is  undertaken. 

On  Chapter  XII,  I  find  no  comment  necessary.  As  to  Chapter 
XIII,  I  recommend  to  the  reader  a  reading  or  re-reading  of  the 
fascinating  pages  in  which  James  treats  of  instinct  in  his 
Psychology.  And  let  him  look  up  the  same  subject  in 
McDougall's  Social  Psychology.  At  the  same  time,  I  enter  a 
note  of  warning  against  reading  even  such  good  writers  uncriti- 
cally. There  is  no  little  dispute  in  this  field.  Dr.  H.  R. 
Marshall's  volume  Mind  and  Conduct  gives  an  unusually  thought- 
ful account  of  instinct  (N.  Y.,  1919). 

Comment  on  Chapter  XIV  is  not  imperatively  necessarj'.    But 


NOTES  367 

I  must  speak  with  detail  of  Chapter  XV,  for  the  best  of  men 
quarrel  when  thej^  come  upon  this  ground: 

§  49.  The  ps)-chologist  takes  into  his  mouth  no  word  more 
ambiguous  than  "  feeling."  It  may  be  used  to  indicate  any 
mental  content  whatever  —  John  Stuart  Mill  could  speak 
of  consciousness  as  composed  of  a  string  of  feelings.  Herbert 
Spencer  divided  conscious  processes  into  "■  feelings  "  and  "  relations 
between  feelings."  James  obliterates  the  distinction,  and  finds 
it  possible  to  speak  of  "  a  feeling  of  and,  a  feeling  of  ij,  a  feeling 
of  but,''  etc.  (Psychology  I,  p.  154,  ff.). 

Some  writers  do  not  distinguish  between  emotions  and  feelings. 
Thus,  Darwin,  in  his  Descent  of  Man,  calls  pleasure  and  pain 
"  emotions."  Marshall  (op.  cit.,  chapter  ii)  makes  emotions, 
and  even  intuitions,  "  instinct-feelings."  Dewey,  in  his  Ethics 
(p.  251),  appears  to  treat  emotions  as  synonj'mous  with  feelings. 
Gardiner,  in  his  interesting  and  careful  stud}^  Affective  Psychology 
in  Ancie7it  Writers  after  Aristotle  (Psychological  Revieiv.  May, 
1919),  treats  of  "what  are  popularly  called  the  feelings,  including 
emotions." 

On  the  other  hand,  in  ethical  writings  the  word,  "  feelings," 
ver>'  often  means  no  more  than  pleasure  and  pain.  Thus,  Seth 
(A  Study  of  Ethical  Principles,  p.  63),  makes  feelings  sj-nony- 
mous  with  pleasure  and  pain.  Muirhead  (Elements  of  Ethics, 
p.  46),  says,  "  bj'  feeling  is  meant  simply  pleasure  and  pain"  ; 
and  to  have  "  interest "  in,  he  defines  as  to  have  pleasure  in 
(p.  46). 

This  narrowing  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  on  the  part  of 
ethical  writers  is,  perhaps,  natural.  The  hedonistic  moralists 
made  pleasure  and  pain  the  only  ultimate  reasonable  stimulants 
to  action.  Many  moralists  opposed  them  (see,  later.  Chapters 
XXrV  and  XXV).  So  pleasure  and  pain  became  "the  feelings," 
par  excellence.  Both  Dewej^  and  Alexander  sometimes  speak 
as  if,  by  the  word  "  feeling,"  we  meant  no  more  than  pleasure 
and  pain.    So  docs  Kant. 

The  modern  psychologist  sometimes  distinguishes  pleasure  and 
pain  from  "  agreeableness "  and  "  disagreeableness."  Marshall, 
a  high  authority  on  pleasure  and  pain,  refuses  to  draw  the  dis- 
tinction (op.  cit.,  Part  III.  chapter  vi).  But  he  also  refuses  to 
call  pleasure  and  pain  sensations,  regarding  them  as  "  q.ualifica- 
tions  of  our  sensations,"  like  intensity,  duration,  and  the  like. 

Are  pleasures,  as  pleasures,  alike?    and  are   pains,   as  pains, 


368  NOTES 

alike?  Jeremy  Bentham  refused  to  distinguish  between  kinds  of 
pleasures.  On  the  other  hand,  John  Stuart  Mill  did  so  (see 
Chapter  XXV  in  this  volume) ;  and  S.  Alexander,  in  his  work  en- 
titled Moral  Order  and  Progress,  maintains  that  pleasures  differ 
in  kind,  and  cannot  be  compared  merely  in  their  intensity  (see 
page  202). 

The  whole  matter  is  complicated  enough,  and  there  is  occupa- 
tion for  the  most  disputatious.  But  I  do  not  think  that  these 
disputes  very  directly  affect  the  argiunent   of   my   chapter. 

§  50.  That  there  is  a  relation  between  feeling  and  action,  but 
that  the  two  are  by  no  means  nicely  adjusted  to  each  other,  has 
been  recognized  in  many  quarters. 

Darwin,  discussing  the  mental  and  moral  qualities  of  man, 
points  out  that  the  satisfaction  of  some  fundamental  instincts 
gives  little  pleasure,  although  uneasiness  is  suffered  if  they  are 
not  satisfied.  Seth  (op.  cit.,  p.  64)  says  that  feelings  "  guide  " 
action;  and  he  claims  that  the  energy  of  a  moving  idea  lies  in 
the  feeling  which  it  arouses  (p.  70).  On  the  quantitj^  of  emo- 
tion, and  its  relation  to  action,  see  Stephen,  The  Science  of 
Ethics,  ii,  iii,  25. 

§51.  It  appears  to  be  repugnant  to  Green  to  admit 
that  feeling  —  pleasure  —  can  be  the  direct  object  of  action; 
and  he  denies  roundly  that  a  simi  of  pleasures  can  be 
made  an  object  of  desire  and  will  at  all  {Prolegomena  to  Ethics, 
§221;  see  §113  of  this  book).  Moreover,  he  maintains,  and  in 
this  Dewey  follows  him,  that  the  making  of  pleasure  an  object 
is  evidence  of  the  existence  of  unhealthy  desires.  I  cannot  but 
think  this,  taken  generally,  an  exaggeration.  Of  course,  what 
is  called  "  a  man  of  pleasure  "  is  a  pretty  poor  sort  of  a  thing. 

§  52.  In  this  section  I  do  not  touch  at  all  upon  the  im- 
memorial dispute  concerning  what  has  been  called  "  the  '  free- 
dom '  of  the  will." 

Indeed,  I  leave  it  out  of  this  book  altogether.  The  moralist 
must,  I  think,  assume  that  man  has  natural  impulses  and  is  a 
rational  creature.  Those  who  are  interested  in  the  problem 
above  mentioned,  may  turn  to  my  Introduction  to  Philosophy, 
chapter  xi,  §46,  where  the  matter  is  discussed,  and  references 
(in  the  corresponding  note)  are  given. 

Chapter  XVI.  —  The  matter  cf  this  chapter  appears  clear 
enough,  but  it  may  be  well  to  give  a  few  references  touching 
the  two  conceptions  of  the  functions  of  Reason. 


NOTES  369 

Men  of  quite  varying  views  have  inclined  to  the  doctrine 
which  appeals  to  me.  I  think  it  is  to  be  gotten  out  of  Hegel. 
Green,  who  is  much  influenced  by  him,  takes,  as  the  rational  end 
of  conduct,  a  ''  satisfaction  on  the  whole,"  which  implies  a  har- 
monization and  unification  of  the  desires  (see,  in  this  book,  Chap- 
ter XXVI,  §  122).  Spencer,  in  his  Study  of  Sociology,  defines 
the  rational  as  the  consistent.  Stephen,  in  his  Science  of  Ethics, 
chapter  ii,  §  3,  saj's  :  "  Reason,  in  short,  whatever  its  nature, 
is  the  faculty  which  enables  us  to  act  with  a  view  to  the  distant 
and  the  future."  He  claims  that  rationality  tends  to  bring  about 
a  certain  unity  or  harmony.  Hobhouse,  Morals  in  Evolution, 
(pp.  572-581),  says  that  reason  harmonizes  the  impulses. 

The  champions  of  the  opposite  view  are  the  intuitionists 
proper  —  such  men  as  Kant,  Reid,  Price,  even  Sidgwick.  To 
judge  of  their  doctrine  —  they  were  great  men,  be  it  remem- 
bered, and  worthy  of  all  respect — I  suggest  that  the  reader 
wait  until  he  has  read  the  chapter  on  Intuitionism  in  this  volume. 
Chapter  XXHI. 

5.  Chapters  XVII  to  XIX.  — What  is  said  in  Chapter  XVII 
seems  too  obviously  true  to  need  comment.  Indeed,  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  the  chapter  is  not  full  of  platitudes.  But 
even  platitudes  are  overlooked  by  some ;  and  there  is  some  merit 
in  arranging  them  systematically.  Besides,  they  may  serve  as 
a  spring-board. 

As  to  Chapter  XVIII,  I  suggest  reading  chapter  vii,  of 
Westermarck's  book  on  The  Origin  and  Development  of  the, 
Moral  Ideas.  It  is  entitled  Ciistoms  and  Laws  as  Expressions 
oj  Moral  Ideas. 

For  Chapter  XIX,  one  may  read  Hobhouse,  Morals  in  Evolu- 
tion, Part  I,  chapter  vi,  where  he  shows  how  the  mere  "  group 
morality  "  gradually  gives  place  to  a  wider  morality  in  which 
the  concept  of  humanity  plays  a  part.  In  the  same  work,  Part 
II,  chapters  i  and  ii,  the  author  treats  of  religious  or  sub-religious 
ideas  as  affecting  conduct.  Compare  Westermarck,  op.  cit., 
chapter  xl.     See,  also.  The  Aricifnt  City,  by  Fustel  de  Coulanges. 

6.  Chapters  XX  to  XXII.  —  What  is  said  in  Chapter  XX  may 
be  well  reinforced  by  turning  to  Hobhouse  {op.  cit.),  Part  I, 
chapter  iii,  where  he  traces  the  gradual  evolution  of  rational 
morality  in  the  field  of  justice.  See.  also,  Westermarck,  (op. 
cit.)  chapters  ix  and  x,  i.  e.,  "  The  Will  as  the  Subject  of  Moral 
Judgment  and  the  Influence  of  External  Events,"  and  "  Agents 


370  NOTES 

under  Intellectual  Disability."  In  the  last  chapter  referred  to, 
animals,  di-unkards,  idiots,  the  insane,  etc.,  come  on  the  stage. 
The  chapter  is  full  of  curious  information. 

In  Chapter  XXI  (§86),  I  have  spoken  of  the  hesitating  utter- 
ances of  moralists  touching  any  duties  we  may  owe  to  the  brutes. 
I  suggest  that  before  anyone  dogmatize  in  detail  on  this  sub- 
ject he  read  with  some  care  such  a  comprehensive  work  as  Miss 
Washburn's  The  Animal  Mind.  The  book  is  admirable.  Chap- 
ters X  and  xHv  of  Westermarck's  work  are  instructive  and  enter- 
taining on  this  subject.  Hegel  disposes  of  the  animals  rather 
summarily.  See  his  Philosophy  of  Bight,  §  47.  Sidgwick,  The 
Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  III,  chapter  iv,  2,  is  well  worth  con- 
sulting.   See  in  my  own  volume,  Chapter  XXX,  §   141. 

For  Chapter  XXII,  I  give  no  references.  I  appeal  only  to 
the  common  sense  of  my  reader. 

7.  Chapters  XXIII  to  XXIX. —  For  the  chapters  on  the 
Schools  of  the  Morahsts,  XXIII  to  XXIX,  I  shall  give  briefer 
notes  than  I  should  have  given,  were  the  chapters  not  already 
so  well  provided  with  foot-notes. 

So  far  as  the  first  four  of  these  chapters  are  concerned,  I  shall 
assume  that  enough  has  been  said,  drawing  attention  onlj-  to 
two  points  which  concern  Chapter  XXIII. 

It  is  very  interesting  to  note  that  one  of  our  best  critics  of 
intuitionism,  Henry  Sidgwick,  was  himself  an  intuitionist.  His 
Methods  of  Ethics  deserves  very  close  attention.  Again.  In- 
tuitions are  often  spoken  of  as  if  they  had  been  shot  out  of  a 
pistol,  and  had  neither  father  nor  mother.  To  understand  them 
better  it  is  onh*  necessarv'  to  read  chapter  viii  of  Dr.  H.  R. 
Marshall's  little  book,  Mind  and  Conduct,  which  shows  how 
difficult  it  is  to  mark  intuitions  off  sharply,  and  to  treat  them 
as  if  they  had  nothing  in   common   with   reason. 

Those  interested  in  the  ethics  of  evolution,  treated  in  Chapter 
XXVII,  should  not  miss  reading  the  fourth  chapter  of  Darwin's 
Descent  of  Man.  Huxley's  essay,  Evolution  and  Ethics,  might 
be  read.  The  "  Prolegomena "  to  the  essay  is,  however,  much 
more  valuable  than  the  essay  itself.  Spencer's  general  theory 
of  conduct  is  best  gathered  from  his  Data  of  Ethics,  which  was 
reprinted  as  Part  I  of  his  Principles  of  Ethics.  The  volume  by 
C.  M.  Williams,  entitled,  A  Review  of  Evolutionary  Ethics, 
gives  a  convenient  account  of  a  dozen  or  more  writers  who  have 
treated  of  ethics  from  the  evolutionary  standpoint.    It  is  well 


NOTES  371 

not  to  overlook  what  Sidgwick  has  to  say  of  evolution  and 
ethics;  see  The  Methods  of  Ethics,  Book  I,  chapter  ii,  §  2. 

As  for  Chapter  XXVIII,  on  "  Pessimism,"  it  is  enough,  I 
think,  to  refer  the  reader  to  Book  IV,  in  Schopenliauer's  work 
on  The  World  as  Will  and  Idea.  The  Book  is  entitled  The 
Assertion  and  Denial  oj  the  Will  to  Live,  where  Selj -conscious- 
ness has  been  Attained.  See  also  his  supplementary  chapters, 
xlvi,  on  "  The  Vanity  and  Suffering  of  Life,"  and  xlviii,  "  On 
the  Doctrine  of  the  Denial  of  the  Will  to  Live."  For  the  doc- 
trine of  von  Hartmann,  see  chapters  xiii  to  xv,  in  the  part  of 
his  work  entitled,  The  Metaphysic  oj  the   Uncoiiscious. 

For  the  chapter  on  Kant,  Hegel  and  Nietzsche,  I  shall  give 
but  a  few  references,  though  the  literature  on  these  writers  is 
enormous.  The  English  reader  will  find  T.  K.  Abbott's  trans- 
lation of  Kant's  ethical  writings  a  verj'  convenient  volume 
(third  edition,  London,  1883).  The  translation  of  Hegel's  Phi- 
losophy oj  Right,  by  S.  W.  Dyde  (1896),  I  have  found  good, 
where  I  have  compared  it  with  the  original.  The  word  '*  Right " 
in  the  title  is  unavoidably  ambiguous,  for  the  German  word 
means  both  "  right "  and  "  law."  Hegel  is  dealing,  in  a  sense, 
with  both.  I  have  indicated,  in  a  foot-note,  that  Nietzsche 
ought  to  be  read  in  the  original.    He  is  a  man'ellous  artist. 

Perhaps  I  should  add  that  Nietzsche  will  be  read  with  most 
pleasure  by  those  who  do  not  attempt  to  find  in  his  works  a 
system  of  ethics.  I  recommend  to  the  reader,  especially,  his 
three  volumes:  The  Genealogy  oj  Morals;  Beyond  Good  and 
Evil;  and  Thus  Spake  Zarathustra;  (New  York,  1911). 

8.  Chapters  XXX  to  XXXVI.  —  I  shall  not  comment  on 
Chapter  XXX.  It  is  sufficiently  interpreted  by  what  has  been 
said  earlier  in  this  book.  Nor  do  I  think  that  Chapter  XXXI 
needs  to  be  discussed  here.  I  need  only  say  that  many  moralists 
have  commented  upon  the  negative  aspect  of  the  moral  law. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  the  "  demon  "  of  Socrates  —  a  dread- 
ful translation  —  was  a  negative  sign.  I  do  not  think  that  those 
who  have  dwelt  upon  the  negative  aspect  of  morality  have  re- 
flected sufficiently  upon  the  moral  organization  of  society.  We 
are  put  to  school  unavoidably  as  soon  as  we  are  born. 

I  shall  not  dwell  upon  Chapters  XXXII  and  XXXIII.  Here 
I  appeal  merely  to  the  good  sense  of  the  reader. 

But  Chapter  XXXIV  demands  more  attention.  He  who  is 
ignorant  of  history,  and  has  come  into  no  close  contact  with  the 


372  NOTES 

organization  and  functioning  of  any  state  other  than  his  own, 
is  as  unfit  to  pass  judgment  upon  states  generally,  as  is  the  man 
who  has  never  been  away  from  his  native  village  to  pass  judg- 
ment upon  towns  generally  —  towns  inhabited  by  various  peoples 
and  situated  in  different  quarters  of  the  globe.  His  lot  may, 
it  is  true,  happen  to  be  cast  in  a  good  village;  but  how  he  is  to 
tell  that  it  is  good,  I  cannot  conceive.  He  has  no  standard  of 
comparison. 

Fortunately,  his  ignorance  is  not  as  harmful  as  it  might  be. 
The  Rational  Social  Will,  which  is  penetrated  through  and  through 
with  traditions  wiser  than  the  whims  of  the  individual,  carries 
him  along  upon  its  broad  bosom,  and  makes  decisions  for  him. 

The  sociologist  and  the  political  philosopher  should  be  con- 
sulted, as  well  as  the  historian,  by  one  who  would  make  a  satis- 
factory list  of  books  touching  the  subject  of  this  chapter.  But 
the  moralist  may  be  allowed  to  suggest  a  few  titles,  some  of 
them  very  old  ones.  Plato's  Republic  is  fascinating,  and  Aris- 
totle's PoUtics  is  the  shrewdest  of  books.  But  compare  the 
state  as  conceived  by  these  men  with  our  notions  of  a  modern 
democracy!  More's  Utopia  is  a  delight.  To  get  back  to  earth 
and  see  what  history  means  to  a  state,  and  to  its  constitution 
and  laws,  read  Sir  Henry  Maine's  Ancient  Law.  States  are  not 
made  in  a  day,  although,  under  abnormal  conditions,  govern- 
ments may  be  upset,  and  new  ones  set  up,  within  twenty-four 
hours.  After  such  unhistorical  proceedings,  one  can  scarcely  ex- 
pect "  fast  colors."  One  or  two  washings  will  suffice  to  show 
what  was  there  before. 

He  who  has  a  weakness  for  the  operatic  can  peruse  Rousseau's 
Social  Contract  and  the  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man  pub- 
hshed  in  the  great  French  Revolution.  As  an  antidote,  I  suggest 
Bentham's  essay  on  Anarchical  Fallacies. 

But  reading  will  do  Little  good  —  even  historical  reading  — 
unless  one  also  thinks.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  knowledge 
a  man  may  escape,  if  he  is  born  under  the  proper  star.  I  once 
knew  an  undergraduate  in  an  American  university,  who  attended 
compulsory  chapel  for  more  than  three  years,  and  who  still 
thought  that  the  Old  Testament  was  a  history  of  the  Ancient 
Romans. 

There  is  quite  too  much  to  say  about  Chapters  XXXV  and 
XXXVI.  The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  say  nothing.  I  shall  touch 
upon   just   one   point   in   each   chapter.    I   venture   to   beg   the 


NOTES  373 

teacher,  when  he  treats  of  International  Ethics,  to  read  in  class, 
with  his  students,  those  pages  in  which  Sir  Thomas  More  de- 
scribes the  principles  upon  which  the  Utopians  conducted  their 
wars.  Remember  that  Sir  Thomas  was  not  merelj^  a  statesman, 
but,  by  common  consent,  a  learned,  a  great,  and  a  good  man. 
Mark  the  reaction  of  the  undergraduate  mind. 

The  one  matter  upon  which  I  shall  comment  in  Chapter 
XXXVI,  is  the  question  of  belief  as  an  object  of  approval  or  of 
censure.  Westermarck  states  {The  Origin  and  Development  of 
the  Moral  Ideas,  Volume  I,  chapter  viii,  p.  216),  that  neither 
the  Catholic  nor  the  Protestant  Church  regarded  belie},  as  such, 
as  an  object  of  censure.  Yet  each  was  willing  to  punish  heresy. 
The  point  is  most  interesting,  and  I  hazard  an  explanation.  The 
churches  were  organizations  with  a  definite  object.  They  made 
use  of  reward  and  punishment.  This  was  reasonable  enough, 
abstractly  considered.  However,  doctrine  was  the  affair  of  the 
theologian.  Now  the  theologian,  like  the  philosopher,  is  a  man 
who  assumes  that  he  is  concerned  with  proofs,  and  with  proofs 
only.  If  a  thing  is  proved,  how  can  a  man  help  believing  it? 
Only  if  he  will  not,  which  is  sheer  obstinacy  or  perversity.  Let 
him,  then,  be  punished  on  account  of  his  defective  character 
(see  Westermarck,  I,  chapter  xi,  p.  283). 

I  think  the  apparent  quibbling  here  can  be  gotten  rid  of  by 
recognizing  the  truth  emphasized  in  §  §  167-168,  namely, 
that  logical  proofs  play  but  a  subordinate  part  in  the  adoption 
or  rejection  of  beliefs  touching  a  vast  number  of  matters  both 
secular  and  religious.  If  we  can  influence  men's  emotions,  we 
can  influence  their  beliefs.  Both  State  and  Church  have  this 
power.  It  is  a  power  that  can  be  abused.  But  it  is,  on  the 
whole,  a  good  thing  that  men's  beliefs  can  thus  be  influenced. 
There  would  be  no  stability  in  human  society  could  they  not. 
Every  ignorant  man  —  and  many  men  are  ignorant  —  would  be 
at  the  mercy  of  every  clever  talker;  and  he  would  change  his 
beliefs  every  day.  As  men  act  on  beliefs,  this  means  that  he 
would  zig-zag  through  life  to  the  detriment  of  all  orderly 
development.  I  beg  the  reader,  learned  or  imlearned,  to  put 
aside  prepossessions,  and  to  look  at  things  as  they  are  in  tliis 
field. 


INDEX 


Actions:  judged  in  their  setting, 
51. 

Activity:  as  criterion  of  perfec- 
tion, 252. 

Alexander,  S.:  367,  368. 

Animals:  their  rights,  178; 
Bentham  quoted  on,  231; 
ethics  of  reason  and,  294. 

Antoninus:  see  Marcus  Aure- 
lius. 

Aristippus:   16,  203,  213,  363. 

Aristotle:  on  slaves  and  animals, 
12,  13;  on  the  virtues,  17- 
19;  on  "well-being,"  52-53; 
on  size  of  the  state,  69;  on 
paternal  and  maternal  love, 
100-101;  on  ultimate  ends, 
103;  egoistic  doctrine  of,  214; 
on  man's  nature,  243-244; 
on  the  dying  hero,  262;  on 
justice  to  one's  child,  316; 
on  the  state,  319;  on  rights 
in  the  state,  324;  on  infan- 
ticide, 328;    writings  of,  364. 

Belief:  357  ff.;  the  church  and, 
373. 

Benefit  of  Clergy:   10. 

Benevolence:  Cicero  quoted  on, 
24. 

Bentham:  benevolence  a  "des- 
sert," 14;  his  formula,  24; 
on  motive,  107;  his  egoism, 
213,  218;  his  utilitarianisna, 
220  ff.;  a  philanthropist,  225; 
his  assumptions,   226  ff . ;    re- 


ferred to,  233;  on  malicious 
pleasure,  240;  on  "anarchi- 
cal fallacies,"  328;  on  kinds 
of  pleasure,  368. 

Bryce:  on  the  Indian  and  the 
Negro,  13. 

Butler,  Joseph:  the  accepted  in 
morals,  3;  his  vagueness,  8; 
man's  nature,  53;  on  con- 
science and  consequences,  201 ; 
egoistic  utterances,  214,  218; 
on  disinterested  desires,  236. 

Cambyses:  320. 

Cardinal  Virtues:  see  Virtues. 

Character:  defined,  95. 

Church:  the  virtues  and  the,  18; 
significance  of  the,  354;  atti- 
tude toward  belief,  373. 

Cicero:   23,  24,  199,  247,  364. 

Citizen:  ancient  conception  of, 
13. 

Civilization:  moralization  and, 
61  ff.;    development  of,    176. 

Clarke:  188;  his  rules  of  right- 
eousness, 192;  egoistic  ut- 
terances, 214. 

Cleanliness:  why  a  virtue,  315. 

Codes:  of  communities,  8  ff. ; 
of  individuals,  15  ff. ;  reason 
and,  182. 

Collective  Responsibility:  10;  ra- 
tionality of,  166-167. 

Common  Good:  12  ff. 

Community:  its  development, 
67  ff.;    its  size,  69;    custom 


375 


376 


INDEX 


and  the,  146;  what  consti- 
tutes a,  148;  the  dead  and 
the,  149-150;  the  supernat- 
ural and  the,  150;  rehgion 
and  the,  152;  spread  of  the, 
154;  international  ethics  and 
the,  335  ff. 

Conklin:  365. 

Conscience:  Butler  on,  53;  what 
it  is,  311-312. 

Coulanges,  Fustcl  de:  350. 

Credit:  significance  of,  309. 

Cudworth:  188. 

Custom:  defined,  139;  origin, 
authority  and  persistence  of, 
140-143. 

Cyrenaics:  see  Aristippus. 

Darwin:  53,  272,  365,  367,  368, 
370. 

Dead:  duties  to  the,  149. 

Deduction:  see  Method. 

Descartes:  on  animal  automa- 
tism, 162. 

Desire:  its  nature,  79  ff . ;  the 
unattainable  and,  81-82;  de- 
sire and  desires,  102-103, 
dominant  and  subordinate, 
121 ;  harmonization  of,  122  ff. ; 
self-realization  and,  257  ff. 

Dewey,  John:  11,  23,  209,  237, 
348,  367. 

Distribution  of  Pleasures:  230  ff. ; 
292. 

Dogmatism:    in  morals,  29. 

Dostoieffsky:  his  superman,  284. 

Duty;  298  ff.;  obligation  and, 
303. 

Economics:    ethics  and,  343. 
Egoism:  misfoncoivos  man,  101 ; 
the  doctrine,  203  ff . ;  self-real- 


ization and,  256;  doctrine  of 
the  social  will  and,  293;  see 
Self-sacrifice. 

Emotion:  and  ethics,  44-46; 
taken  alone,  non-moral,  51. 

Ends:  as  objects  chosen,  96; 
relation  of,  to  human  nature, 
97-98;  complex,  105;  varie- 
ties of  dominant  ends,  123; 
reason  and  ends,  124-125, 
169  ff . ;  consistently  u-rational 
ends,  171;  reasonable  social 
ends,  172  ff. ;  see  Egoism  and 
Utilitarianism. 

Epictctus:  17,  153,  187,  315, 
364. 

Epicurus:  16,  219,  363. 

Evolution:    the  ethics  of,  266  ff. 

Eugenics:   ethics  and,  329,  343. 

Feeling:  uses  of  the  word,  49- 
50;  relation  to  action,  113- 
114;  as  end,  114-116;  moral 
judgment  and,  194,  196. 

Fidelity:  marital,  314. 

File:  219,  256,  259,  264,  348. 

Freedom:  as  end,  117. 

Gallon:  on  ethics  and  eugenics, 
329. 

Gardiner:  367. 

God:  and  the  community,  153; 
and  the  philosopher,  256. 

Good:  the  concept,  303. 

Green,  T.  H.:  on  the  cardinal 
virtues,  23;  will  identical 
with  desire,  85;  egoistic  ut- 
terances, 205  ff.,  214;  on 
appetite  and  pleasure,  237; 
his  doctrine,  253  ff. ;  on  self- 
denial,  2.59,  261;  his  real  doc- 
trine, 348;   on  pleasure,  368. 


INDEX 


377 


Grotius:  on  hostages,  13;  on 
the  law  of  nature,  246;  his 
illustrations,  331. 

Habits:  social,  133. 

Happiness:  see  Pleasure. 

Hartley:  36. 

Hartmann,  von:    see  Pessimism. 

Hedonism:  see  Pleasure. 

Hegel:  on  inequality  of  rights, 
13;  ethical  doctrine  of,  281  ff.; 
compared  with  Kant  and 
Nietzsche,  285;  on  the  real 
and  the  rational,  333;  on  in- 
ternational law,  338;  on  be- 
lief, 359;  on  reason,  369;  on 
animals,  370;  references,  371. 

Heraclitus:  5. 

Herodotus:  320,  322. 

Hobbes:  list  of  the  virtues,  20; 
his  egoism,  204,  206;  on  self- 
preservation,  211. 

Hobhouse:  10;  on  rationality 
of  custom,  165;  on  social 
man,  211;  on  lower  animals, 
269;  referred  to,  365,  366,  369. 

Hospitality:  and  social  wUl,  166. 

Hume:  the  virtues,  21 ;  on  rea- 
son and  passion,  126. 

Hutchison:   on  self-interest,  218. 

Huxley:  266,  370. 

Ideals:  and  character,  95. 
Impulse:  its  characteristics,  77- 

79;    compared  with  instinct, 

99. 
Induction:  see  Method. 
Infanticide:  9,  328. 
Instincts:    enumerations  of,  99. 
Intention:   what  it  means,  105- 

107;     broader    than    motive, 

107;    ethical  significance  of, 

107-111. 


International  Ethics:  330  ff. 

International  Law:   see  Law. 

Int^dtionism:  187  ff.;  the  ap- 
peal to  nature  and,  247;  per- 
fectionism and,  252. 

James:  on  the  self,  206  ff . ;  on 
egoism,  212;  his  pragmatism, 
357,  358;  on  desire  and  will, 
366;    on  feeUngs,  367. 

Janet:  on  final  causes,  96;  on 
perfection,  251. 

Jus  Gentium:  see  Law  of  Nations. 

Justice:  8  ff. 

Kant:  on  desire  and  will,  85; 
reason  as  law-giver,  127;  his 
categorical  imperative,  193, 
195;  its  interpretation,  200; 
egoistic  position,  215;  on 
self-sacrifice,  219,  262;  ethi- 
cal doctrine  of,  279  ff . ;  com- 
pared with  Hegel  and  Nietz- 
sche, 285,  references,  371. 

Law:  compared  with  custom, 
143-144;  international,  155; 
law  of  nature,  245;  moral 
laws,  299  ff.;  the  state  and, 
323  ff. 

Law  of  Nations:  Roman  con- 
ception, 14. 

Lex  Talionis:  9,10. 

Locke:  on  moral  maxims,  4; 
his  list,  21;  on  moral  intui- 
tions, 188,  192. 

Mackenzie:  348. 
Magic:  what  it  is,  151. 
Mahan:  quoted,  388. 
Maine,  Sir  Henry:    on  the  jus 
gentium,  14;  on  conservatism, 


378 


INDEX 


133;  on  the  law  of  nature, 
246;  on  testamentary  suc- 
cession, 325. 

McDougall:  237,  350,  366. 

Marcus  Aurelius:  quoted,  17; 
on  uniformity  in  nature,  40; 
on  man's  nature,  53;  on 
human  nature  and  the  law  of 
nature,  245;   his  works,  364. 

Marriage:  and  divorce,  326. 

Marshall:  366,  367,  370. 

Mathematics:  its  methods,  33  ff. 

Merit:    significance  of,  309. 

Method:  in  ethical  inquiry,  33  ff. 

Mill,  J.  S.:  Hs  utilitarianism, 
221,  224  ff.;  his  argument, 
227;  quoted,  263;  on  feel- 
ings, 367;    on  pleasures,  368. 

Moralists:  defined,  15. 

Moral  Law:  see  Law. 

More,  H.:  moral  intuitions,  188. 

More,  Sir  Thomas:  on  conquest, 
334;  on  war,  373. 

Motive:  meaning  of,  107;  ethi- 
cal significance  of,  107-111. 

Muirhead:  255,  348,  366. 

Nature:  of  man,  52  ff. ;  the 
struggle  with,  57  ff. ;  as  ethical 
norm,  243  ff.;  law  of,  245; 
the  norm  vague,  246. 

Nero:  as  diplomat,  342. 

Nietzsche:  and  human  instincts, 
101;  the  will  to  have  power, 
211;  ethical  doctrine  of, 
282  ff.;  references  to,  371. 

Objective,  Rirjhtness:    see  Duty. 
Obligation:  see  Duty. 

Paley:  his  egoism,  205;  his 
argument,  213. 


Perfection:  as  ethical  norm, 
248  ff . ;  tj-pe  as  criterion  of, 
250  ff . ;  perfectionism  and  in- 
tuitionism,  252. 

Pessimism:  274  ff . ;  references 
given,  371. 

Philosophy:  and  ethics,  41,  42, 
345  ff. 

Plato:  on  citizenship  13;  on 
the  virtues,  17;  on  war,  68; 
on  the  size  of  the  state,  69; 
on  social  classes,  70;  an  in- 
tuitionist,  196;  on  eugenics, 
284;  on  punishment,  308; 
on  the  state,  319;  on  infan- 
ticide, 328;  his  writings, 
363. 

Pleasure:  as  unique  end,  104; 
as  motive,  112-  117;  as  utili- 
tarian end,  221  ff.;  distribu- 
tion of,  230,  292;  calculus  of, 
232  ff . ;  higher  and  lower, 
297. 

Politics:   ethics  and,  343. 

Pragmatistn:  356  ff. 

Price:  188;  his  moral  intuitions, 
192. 

Public  Opinion:  compared  with 
custom,  144-147. 

Punishment:  its  measure,  9; 
its  bearer,  10;  moral  law  and, 
300;   reward  and,  306. 

Reason:      and      ethics,      43  ff. ; 

rationality  and   will,    118  ff.; 

rationality    and    ends,     169- 

172;    social  ends  and,  172  ff.; 

the  ethics  of  reason,   175  ff.; 

the  varying  codes  and,   182; 

ethics  of,  289  ff. 
Reflection:  and  moral  codes,  24, 

25. 


INDEX 


379 


Reid:  fundamental  maxims,  22; 
on  conscience,  198;  on  be- 
nevolence and  self-interest, 
346. 

Religion:  contrasted  with  magic, 
151;  the  community  and,  152; 
ethics  and,  349  ff. 

Resetiinient:  and  punishment, 
307,  308. 

Reward:  moral  law  and,  301; 
punishment  and,  306. 

Right:  the  concept,  303. 

Rights:  of  animals,  178;  the 
state  and,  323  ff. 

Rousseau:  372. 

Satisfaction:  as  end,  216;  as 
higher  and  lower,  297. 

Schools  of  the  Moralists:    187  ff. 

Schopenliauer:   see  Pessimism. 

Self:  meanings  of  the  word, 
206  ff. 

Selfishness:  the  social  will  and, 
167:  see  Egoism. 

Self-realization:  22;  the  doc- 
trine of,  253  ff.;  and  egoism, 
256  ff;   reason  and,  295  ff. 

Self-sacrifice:  258  ff . 

Seneca:  on  moral  intuitions, 
187;  on  ingratitude,  312;  his 
ethics,  364. 

Seth:  261,  367,  368. 

Sidgtvick:  on  Greek  ethics,  17; 
on  the  ethics  of  the  Church, 
18,  on  benevolence,  24;  on 
methods,  33;  ethics  and  math- 
ematics, 36;  the  aim  of  ethics, 
43;  reason  as  law-giver,  128; 
on  ethical  intuitionism,  188; 
his  intuitions,  193;  195;  on 
conflicting  intuitions,  200; 
quoted,    213;     egoistic  state- 


ment, 214;  on  self-sacrifice, 
219;  on  utilitarianism,  228, 
229,  239;  his  transfigured 
utilitarianism,  242;  on  the 
limits  of  self-sacrifice,  262; 
on  evolution  and  ethics,  266, 
268;  definition  of  politics, 
319;  on  obedience  to  the 
state,  328;  on  belief,  360; 
his  history  of  ethics,  363; 
references  to,  365;  on  ani- 
mals, 370;  criticizes  intui- 
tionism, 370. 

Slatin:    the  Mahdi,  336. 

Slavery:  9;  selfishness  and,  168. 

Social  Classes:  70. 

Social  Contract:  a  fable,  66. 

Social  Will:  see  Will. 

Spencer:  272,  273,  367,  369. 

Spinoza:  on  self-preservation, 
211. 

State:  ethics  of  the,  319  ff.; 
rights  and  duties  of  the  327. 

Stephen,  Sir  Leslie:  the  ac- 
cepted in  morals,  3,  16;  his 
criterion,  273;  on  reason,  369. 

Stewart:  201. 

Stoics:  16,  17;  on  the  virtues, 
23;  on  man's  nature,  53; 
desire  and  will,  85. 

Subjective  Rightness:  292. 

Superman:  see  Nietzsche. 

Supernatural:  the  community 
and  the,  150. 

Thomas,  St.:  on  the  virtues,  23; 

his  ethics,  364. 
Truth:  see  Veracity. 
Type:  see  Perfection. 

Utilitarianism:  22;  what  it  is, 
220  ff . ;      argument     for     it, 


380 


INDEX 


226  ff.;  MUl  criticized  by 
Sidgwick,  228;  Sidgwick's 
argument  for  it,  229;  argu- 
ments for  and  against,  234  ff . ; 
transfigured  by  Sidgwick,  242. 

Veracity:  its  significance,  11, 12. 

Vices:  defined,  309. 

Virtues:  lists  of,  17  ff.;  the  car- 
dinal, 23;  duties  and,  298  ff.; 
concept  of,  309;  of  the  indi- 
vidual, 314;  the  conventional, 
316  ff. 

Washburn,  M.  F.:  iii;  on  the 
animal  mind,  366,  370. 

Weslermarck:  quoted,  9,  10, 
11;  on  Sidgwick's  axiom, 
36;  ethics  based  on  emotion, 
44^46;  on  cleanliness,  315; 
referred  to,  365,  369,  370,  373. 

Whewell:  188;  morals  and  math- 
ematics, 192. 

Will:  and  the  social  order,  71- 
73;  its  relation  to  desire,  83- 
84;  not  identical  with  desire, 
85-88;  deferred  action  and, 
88;  conscious  and  uncon- 
scious choices,  90-93;    ideals 


chosen,  93;  permanent  ends, 
94-95;  character  the  per- 
manent wUl,  95;  the  social 
will,  131  ff.;  social  habits  and 
will,  133  ff. ;  social  organi- 
zation and,  134-135;  ideal 
ends  and,  136;  permanence  of 
social  wdll,  138;  custom,  law 
and  pubUc  opinion  as  re- 
veaUng,  139-147;  apparent 
and  real  social  will,  159; 
will  of  the  majoritj^  161; 
ignorance  and  error,  and  social 
will,  162;  heedlessness,  164; 
concealed  rational  elements 
in  social  will,  164;  selfishness 
and,  167;  man's  multiple 
allegiance,  175;  utilitarian- 
ism and  doctrine  of  social 
will,  242;  the  pessimist  and 
wUl,  274  ff . ;  ethics  of  the 
social  will,  289  ff . ;  social  will 
and  other  norms,  289,  290; 
belief  and  will,  357  ff. 

Williams:  370. 

Woodbridge:  iii. 

Wrong:  the  concept,  303. 

Zeno:  365. 


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